Morning arrived gently.

Not with urgency.

Not with the sharp pull of obligation.

Just light — slow and steady — slipping through the curtains like it had all the time in the world.

Amara woke before her alarm.

Not from restlessness.

From quiet.

For years, silence had been something she fought against.

Silence meant abandonment.

Silence meant unanswered questions.

Silence meant nights spent staring at ceilings, waiting for a past that refused to change.

But this morning…

Silence felt different.

It didn’t accuse.

It didn’t echo.

It simply existed.

She stayed in bed a moment longer than usual, watching sunlight creep across the wall in thin golden lines.

The city...