Eva stepped out of the café and into a city that pretended nothing had changed.
The afternoon light was pale, filtered through a haze that softened edges without erasing them. Cars slid past in orderly impatience. Pedestrians moved with purpose, phones pressed to ears, conversations half-formed and forgotten just as quickly.
Eva paused on the pavement.
Her face was calm—almost serene to an untrained eye—but beneath that composure, her jaw remained tight, the muscle near her temple pulsing faintly. Her eyes tracked reflections in the glass windows opposite her, not the street itself. She had learned, slowly and painfully, that reflections told the truth sooner.
She exhaled through her nose and began to walk.
Each step felt intentional now, weighted not by fear but by awareness. The cit
