The next morning, I didn’t wake up with a plan. I woke up with a heaviness that wasn’t sharp enough to call pain, but deep enough that it felt like it was sitting in my chest. Julian had already left for the boutique, and the apartment was silent except for the faint hum of the fridge. I made coffee and sat at the kitchen table, not rushing to get dressed.

The conversation from the night before kept turning over in my mind. The investor, the labels, the shadows they kept alive — it was ...