I woke lighter than I had in weeks.

Yesterday's dinner had been knives and Hermès and *someone else*, but it had not been a trial with my name on the docket. That counted. Almost-winter morning sat pale on the glass. I dressed for Ben's surprise with more care than Sam's forced shopping trip had ever deserved - fabric that moved, hair down, makeup that looked like I had chosen my own face.

Sam was already out. The house felt wider without him.

On my phone, the unknown thread had grown again: Sam and Alena, close, smiling for someone else's lens. Under it, two words.

*Happy birthday.*

I stared until the...