Back in my apartment, the snow was still falling gently outside, painting Maple Falls in a serene blanket of white. I kicked off my heels, opting for the comfort of fuzzy socks, and slipped into my favorite oversized sweatshirt from NYU. Settling onto the couch, I wrapped my hands around a steaming mug of chamomile tea, the warmth a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in my head.

The meeting with Liam Harrington had been nothing short of surreal. There I was, expecting ...