The first morning waking up outside those walls didn’t feel real.

The sheets were too soft, the air smelled like lavender instead of disinfectant, and sunlight poured through curtains instead of iron bars. For a long time, I just sat there — in the same guest room I’d once stormed out of years ago — and let the quiet seep into me.

Freedom wasn’t loud. It was… still.

When I finally made my way downstairs, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit first. Alina was already in the ...