The envelope came in the middle of a slow afternoon, buried under courier receipts and folded sketches. Claudia had opened it first, scanning the embossed seal with practiced suspicion before setting it beside my tea without a word. I finished signing the vendor contracts before I touched it. I had learned, by now, to be careful with the things that arrived quietly.

The invitation was printed on heavy cream stock, the kind that felt more ceremonial than warm. The words had been chosen with ...