Olivia hadn’t set foot in the office since the crash.
For weeks, she’d hidden from every responsibility: emails stacked up into the hundreds, her phone buzzing with missed calls, deadlines slipping past while she wandered through empty rooms at home, her mind adrift in grief and confusion. Even the simplest tasks—making coffee, answering the door—felt impossible weighty.
But this morning was different. Not easier—just steadier, as if she’d finally found a footing she feared she’d lost forever.
She stood in front of the full-length mirror in their bedroom, the midmorning sun slanting in through thin curtains. The navy blouse she’d hung carefully last night felt strange against her skin, sharp at the shoulders after days of soft sweaters and loose tees. Her heels, black leather with a mod
