(Hailey Miller POV)
The train station thrummed with people and purpose—suitcases on wheels, announcements bouncing off the ceiling, faces passing like brief, unreadable sentences. I moved through it with Caleb tucked against my chest and Isabella dozing in the stroller, feeling every glance as if it might unmask me. The little key in my pocket was a weight I couldn’t set down; each step felt like a small confession that I was chasing something that could undo me.
Liam had wanted to come. He’d said I shouldn’t be alone. I refused. This had to be mine, a proof I could hold in my own hands. Even if the proof broke me, I wanted the break to be honest.
Locker 42 sat in a row near the restrooms, away from the bright shopfronts and the people who looked like they belonged to the world. It was
