The morning after Haven’s grand opening felt different.

Not because the city looked new the same sirens hummed in the distance, the same rush of footsteps filled the streets — but because Violet woke up without the heaviness she’d carried for years.

She sat at the kitchen counter, a cup of tea warming her palms, watching the light pour through the tall windows. Her reflection in the glass looked almost unfamiliar — softer somehow, like someone learning to belong to her own skin again.

Bryan entered quietly, still half asleep, his tie hanging loose around his neck. “You’ve been up for hours, haven’t you?”

“Just thinking,” she murmured, tracing the...