The morning had begun the way most did after a storm of change. Not with a bang or a declaration, but with a return to rhythm. The boutique had been opened earlier than usual, the locks turned with a familiar weight, the lights flicked on in quiet sequence. The air was cooler than the forecast had promised, as though the city itself had paused to exhale after everything that had passed.

Julian had not said much the night before, and I had not asked him to. We had walked together down the ...