One year after the Merge Protocol, dawn found Lila Su standing on the terrace of the newly expanded West Sea Free Clinic, gathering seashells in a wicker basket. Each shell carried a memory—even the smallest held a story: the first fish she'd ever sewn stitches for, the lullaby she'd crooned to Leo in the hidden lab, the night the archives had gone public. These shells were her daily gift to Theo Lu.
He appeared at the top of the steps, silhouetted by the rising sun. In his hand, he held a blank journal bound in teal leather—*Firsts We Choose*, now in its fourth edition of blank pages. Lila turned at his gentle footsteps.
“Good morning," he said, voice warm as the light.
She offered a shell. “First sunrise of our clinic's anniversary."
He accepted it, cradling it in his palm. “Thank yo
