The boutique felt colder than usual that morning. The kind of cold that had nothing to do with temperature. It lived in the walls, in the silence that hung between unfinished mannequins and fabric bolts waiting for hands that hadn’t yet arrived.

I had arrived early. Earlier than even Simone.

The floor was spotless, untouched, but something inside me churned. Not with nerves, not quite with fear, but something adjacent. I stood near the back window, coffee untouched on the table behind me, ...