The office they moved Wren to had no window.
She noticed that detail before almost anything else on her first morning there, standing in the doorway with a single cardboard box balanced against her hip, the fluorescent light overhead humming faintly in a way that would, she suspected, drive her half mad within a month. It was a small, deliberate cruelty dressed up as logistics, the kind of demotion designed to be technically lateral and functionally unmistakable to anyone paying attention.
Two floors down from where she used to sit close enough to touch Marcus's sleeve whenever she wanted to. Two floors down from the view she'd grown used to, the harbor stretching out gold in the mornings, a view she'd let herself believe, foolishly, might one day simply belong to her by virtue of proxim
