The diner smelled faintly of fried eggs and stale coffee.

Chloe sat in the booth by the window, her fingers drumming on the table. The hum of chatter around her felt distant, muffled under the weight of what she was about to do.

Noah walked in, looking sharp in his button-down, his expression a mix of concern and suspicion. He slid into the seat across from her, eyes searching her face.

"How are you doing, Chloe?" he asked gently, voice carrying that practiced warmth that once might have ...