June
The next day stretches long in front of me. Not in a bad way—just deliberately. Like time itself knows something important is coming and has decided not to rush it.
Sylvie wakes late and unapologetic, padding into my sitting area with coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. She looks human again, finally rested after days of pure creative chaos.
“Okay,” she says, dropping onto the couch. “I might survive today.”
“That’s good,” I reply from the window seat. “I was worried I’d be emotionally abandoned.”
She snorts. “Never.”
Outside, Ashwood Falls moves through its routines. Pack members pass along the paths. Kids dart between cottages. Someone laughs near the fountain. It feels normal in a way that steadies me.
A knock sounds at the door.
Sylvie squints. “That better not
