The afternoon was heavy with the scent of rain, the clouds hanging low as Deviana stepped out of the café across the street from the hospital. She had not planned to linger there, but fate had other designs. Her eyes caught movement near the entrance, and when she turned her gaze, she froze.

Leviana.

The woman emerged from the hospital doors, her steps measured, deliberate—yet too steady for someone who had been described as deathly ill. She wore a pale cardigan, a scarf wrapped neatly around her neck, her face carefully composed with a fragility that almost looked rehearsed.

Deviana narrowed her eyes. From the distance, she observed the subtle...