The morning air was heavy with the kind of stillness that made everything feel louder. The soft hum of the city outside Kingsley’s penthouse windows barely registered in his ears as he stood in front of his mirror, buttoning the sleeves of a crisp navy shirt, one cuff slower than the other. The watch he wore, an old one Katherine had once gifted him back when anniversaries still meant something, sat heavy on his wrist, a silent weight that dragged his thoughts back into places he had tried, and failed, to leave behind.
He moved slower than usual. Not sluggish, exactly, but careful, precise, like someone retracing a forgotten path. His hair was already combed, his shoes polished, his cologne faint but present. Everything on him looked like he was heading into a meeting, maybe lunch with a
