Julian didn’t slow when he entered the medical facility. He never had before.
The automatic doors parted at his approach, and he took that as confirmation rather than coincidence. His stride was measured, unhurried, calibrated to be seen without appearing to seek attention. The front desk staff looked up—recognition flickered, then stalled. He gave his name anyway, casually, as if it completed a circuit that had already been closed.
“Julian Crowe.”
He didn’t wait for a response. His gaze was already down the corridor, orienting toward the inner wing where Evelyn would be. This wasn’t a visit; it was a correction. A reset. He had let the situation drift longer than necessary. That was on him. He would fix it.
He’d learned long ago that resistance usually softened once he arrived in pers
