The morning sunlight spilled across the guest room floor in soft, muted layers. I stood near the window, watching the city breathe awake beneath me. For the first time in days, the world outside felt reachable, almost gentle. I pulled in a long breath, letting the familiar tug of homesickness settle in my chest.
A single permission slip sat on the counter—signed, stamped, and sealed.
A day off.
When I told the man I worked for that I needed a break to visit my family, he had simply studied my face for a long moment before giving a short nod. No questions. No arguments. Just a quiet, unreadable look that followed me long after I left the penthouse.
By the time I reached home, my mother's arms wrapped around me before I even stepped fully inside. The scent of sandalwood soap and warm spi
