Ezekiel’s POV

The knot of my tie sat perfectly against my collar, the crisp navy fabric hugging the white shirt beneath like a second skin. I adjusted it once more, though it didn’t need it, staring into the mirror as if the reflection could tell me whether I looked like a man ready to make amends—or one desperate to rewrite a mistake too late in the making.

The suit fit perfectly. It should. It was custom-made, just like everything I used to take for granted when life was ...