The paper was still on the desk.
Blank. Unwritten. Unfolded.
But it said enough.
Amara sat across from Analyn again, this time with a heaviness in her chest she could no longer mask. Her fingers twisted into themselves, restless on her lap. There was no glass-shattering moment this time, no gunshot ringing in her ears—just the echo of truth, settling into her bones like winter.
“It is true, I want to resign,” she said softly.
Analyn didn’t blink. She had expected it. The signs were already on Amara’s face when she walked into the room, the exhaustion in her eyes, the tremble in her hands, the grief that never quite made it to her voice.
“You really sure about that?” Analyn asked.
Amara nodded, once. “But I’ll wait. I won’t leave until you find someone to replace me, I assure you tha
