The loft felt unusually peaceful that morning, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Late winter light slipped in through the tall windows, softening the lines between day and night. Inside, the atmosphere was steady, but beneath that calm was the quiet hum of purpose. Simone was at the central drafting table, tracing a new pattern with deliberate precision, her brow focused yet gentle. Marcus was seated by the window, leaning over his laptop, eyes flicking between boutique ...