The city greeted Violet the next evening with a familiar steadiness, the kind that came from knowing where she stood within it. She moved through the streets without scanning for reassurance or bracing for impact. The rhythm she carried felt earned, shaped by decisions that had stopped asking permission from doubt. Traffic lights shifted, footsteps passed, conversations drifted around her, yet nothing tugged at her center.

By the time she reached Bryan’s building, her breathing remained even. The elevator ride did not sharpen her nerves. It simply carried her upward, quiet and efficient, mirroring the clarity she felt inside her body.

The door opened before she knocked.

Bryan stood there...