The soft hum of the city woke Amara before sunrise.

Lisbon was quiet at that hour — just the faint sound of waves against the docks and the cries of early seagulls circling above the rooftops. She’d grown used to mornings like this. They were calm, still, and forgiving.

Her life had changed in small, quiet ways since the day she’d arrived. There were no more headlines, no flashing cameras, no people whispering behind her back. Just her, her work, and the steady rhythm of a city that had slowly taught her how to breathe again.

She made coffee, opened her balcony doors, and watched the light spread across the...