I wasn’t running. I wasn’t hiding. I was... hovering. Somewhere between distraction and obsession, between silence and sound, between two men and one life and a business I still didn’t fully believe was mine. Back in the city, back in my apartment, back in heels and under-eye concealer and highlighter dabbed to distract from the parts of my face that were too easy to read. Back to pretending I could handle the distance I’d forced between myself and every version of chaos I used to call love. I poured myself into work. Into that damn launch Jynelle insisted we could finesse into something global. Into negotiating shipping delays and influencer tantrums and a courier who claimed he was cursed and refused to deliver any product with glitter in the packaging. I didn’t even ask. I just rerouted
