Amelia woke to silence that felt too expensive to be real.
Not the kind of silence that belonged to early mornings in her apartment—the distant honking, the neighbor’s radio, the sound of someone’s phone vibrating through thin walls. This silence was padded, controlled, like the world had been wrapped in glass.
Her eyes fluttered open slowly.
The ceiling above her was unfamiliar. Smooth. White. Unmarked. No water stains, no cracks, no spinning fan threatening to fall. Sunlight filtered in through tall windows she couldn’t fully see yet, warm but restrained, softened by sheer curtains that moved slightly with the air-conditioning.
For a moment, she didn’t move.
Her body felt heavy, like it was still catching up to her mind. There was no sharp pain—just a deep soreness in her limbs, the
