Morning came slowly, as if the world itself was tired of rushing. Lynda woke up on Lukas’s couch, wrapped in a thin blanket that smelled faintly of detergent and something familiar, stability. For a brief second, she forgot where she was. Then the memories returned, one after the other, sharp and unforgiving.

Marcus’s word. Lukas’s quiet finality. Her own foolish hope. She sat up, careful not to make noise. The apartment was quiet, too quiet, the kind of quiet that makes thoughts louder. ...