The first sign that something was shifting didn’t come loudly.

It didn’t arrive with confrontation or confession.

It came quietly — in the way silence began to feel different.

Amara noticed it the next morning.

Not when she woke up.

But when she didn’t immediately reach for her phone.

There was a time when mornings meant bracing herself.

Checking headlines.

Preparing for impact.

Expecting the world to demand something from her before she even had time to breathe.

But this morning felt… still.

Soft.

Unclaimed.

Sunlight slipped through the curtains in pale gold streaks, resting gently against the floor like it had nowhere urgent to be.

She lay there for...