The evening did not rush them toward anything dramatic. It unfolded with the same deliberate calm that had begun to define their connection, as though the hours themselves understood the importance of pacing. Violet moved through her apartment with quiet intention, aware of how every small action carried weight now. She was no longer filling time. She was preparing space.

She changed into something softer, not chosen for effect but for comfort that matched her state of mind. The fabric rested easily against her skin, allowing her body to remain relaxed and present. She paused briefly in front of the mirror, not to evaluate herself, but to take note of...