We left the restaurant together — not side by side, but close enough for anyone watching to mistake us for friends.

The city air carried that cool edge that always comes before rain, brushing against my skin and bringing with it the faint scent of wet concrete and exhaust. Streetlights buzzed above us, spilling their yellow glow across the pavement as the noise of the restaurant faded behind — laughter, clinking glasses, soft music — all melting into an echo that no longer felt like ...