Amara.
Something had shifted.
I noticed it before I could name it, the way you notice weather change before a storm. The office felt the same—glass walls, polished floors, muted voices—but I moved through it differently, like the air parted a fraction too easily when I passed.
My key card worked on the executive elevator now.
I stared at the glowing panel longer than necessary, half-expecting an alarm, a reprimand, someone telling me I didn’t belong there. Nothing happened. The doors slid open with a soft chime, obedient.
I didn’t step inside.
I backed away instead, heart thudding, and took the stairs like I always had.
No one said anything.
That was the worst part.
People watched me differently. Not openly—no staring, no whispers—but with an awareness that hadn’t been there befo
