Shirley
The morning air was crisp, the kind that hinted at autumn lurking just beyond summer’s edge. I dragged the mop across the wooden floors of my small kitchen, humming to myself in a low tune. Cassandra’s training still clung to my muscles in the form of a dull ache, but instead of resenting it, I embraced it. Pain meant I’d survived it, pushed through it, and maybe—just maybe—grown stronger for it.
I caught my reflection in the streaked window above the sink. My hair was messy, cheeks flushed, but there was something new in my eyes. A steadiness. A quiet promise to myself that I wouldn’t crumble again.
Still, the silence of my apartment pressed heavy. For all the resilience I was trying to stitch into my bones, loneliness remained a steady shadow. Dante hadn’t visited since the n
