Morning arrived too quickly.
Sheila barely remembered falling asleep on the couch, yet she woke with a sharp inhale as sunlight filtered weakly through the rain-streaked windows. The storm had passed, but the air still felt heavy, like the world was holding its breath in anticipation of what the day would bring.
For a few seconds, she lay still, staring at the ceiling, letting reality settle back into place.
Press conference.
Carter.
Atticus.
Her stomach tightened instantly.
She pushed herself upright, wincing at the stiffness in her neck and shoulders. The apartment was quiet, but not empty. She could hear faint movement from the kitchen—ceramic against marble, the low hum of a kettle heating.
Elena.
Sheila rubbed her face with both hands before standing and walking toward the ki
