SOFIA
It didn’t feel different at first. That was the problem.
After everything, the watcher, the restriction, the fragment of truth that didn’t settle and the house had found a new rhythm again. It was tighter, more controlled, and more visible. But still, it was predictable.
I moved through it the same way I had learned to: measured and aware, not pushing against anything that would immediately push back. That was how I ended up in the lower corridor not by mistake, exactly, but through a shift in movement that wasn't corrected. No one stopped me, which should have been enough.
I slowed. The corridor was narrower than the others, dimmer and less used. There were no visible cameras, but that didn’t mean anything anymore. I took another step, then another. The silence felt wrong.
Th
