Thresholds were deceptive things.

They rarely announced themselves with ceremony. No ribbon-cutting. No countdown. Just a subtle shift — a pressure change — the sense that stepping forward would mean there was no clean way back.

Amara felt it the moment she walked into her office that morning.

Not dread.

Not anticipation.

Recognition.

The space looked the same — glass walls catching early light, the faint hum of the city filtering in — but something in the air had changed. The silence that had settled over the past few days wasn’t passive anymore.

It was expectant.

Julian was already there, standing by the window instead of sitting, his jacket still...