The following morning did not arrive with the softness of the lodge. It arrived sharp, precise, threaded with responsibility. Violet woke before her alarm, her body already alert, her mind clear in a way that surprised her. The ceiling above her felt familiar again, the faint hum of the city filtering through the window like a reminder that life had resumed its forward motion.

She lay still for a moment, not drifting, not reaching. The tension she carried had not dissolved overnight. It had reorganized itself, settling into something quieter and more deliberate. She could feel it in the way her breath moved evenly through her chest, in the absence...