Peace, Amara would learn, is rarely uninterrupted.

It doesn’t exist in isolation.

It gets tested.

Measured.

Challenged.

The morning had been gentle.

Soft light.

Clear air.

A quiet kind of steadiness settling into her chest like something earned.

But by noon, the world began knocking again.

Her phone vibrated once.

Then twice.

Then continuously.

Not frantic.

But persistent.

Amara was in the studio when it started.

Music playing low in the background.

A half-finished canvas stretched before her.

Brush poised in midair.

She ignored the first few notifications.

Ignored the way her stomach tightened instinctively.

Ignored the part of her that already knew.

But eventually, silence avoidance becomes curiosity.

And...