Julia found out about the security detail on a Tuesday.
She was walking Nora to the small playground two blocks from their apartment — the one with the yellow slide Nora loved and the bench where Julia usually sat and pretended to read while actually watching her daughter like a hawk.
Except this time, when she looked up from her book, there was a man standing near the park entrance she didn't recognize.
Tall. Quiet. Watching without watching — the way people did when they'd been trained to.
She looked away. Looked back.
He hadn't moved.
She packed up her things calmly, took Nora's hand, and walked a different route home. When she turned the corner onto her street she noticed another one — different man, same stillness, same careful distance.
She got inside, settled Nora with her cr
