Eva did not go straight home.
The decision came quietly, without drama, as she stood beside her car and rested one hand on the roof. The metal was cool beneath her palm, the chill seeping through her skin and settling her thoughts.
She adjusted her coat, smoothing the lapels, then slid into the driver’s seat.
The engine hummed to life.
As she drove, the city unfolded around her in layers—older buildings giving way to newer ones, stone and glass stacked beside steel and light. Streetlights cast pale halos on the road, illuminating passing faces in brief, forgettable flashes.
Eva’s face remained composed, but her eyes were alive.
She parked near a low-rise office building she recognized immediately—not because it was important, but because it tried very hard not to be. Beige exterior.
