The coastal town of St. Jude was the exact opposite of the towering, metallic metropolis Leah had left behind. Here, the air smelled sharp with salt spray and pine, and the rhythm of life was dictated by the rising and falling tides rather than the frantic pulse of traffic.
She rented a sun-bleached apartment above The Anchor & Bean, a bustling corner coffee shop run by an elderly couple who treated the entire block like family. Every morning, the rich, nutty scent of roasting espresso beans and fresh cinnamon pastries drifted through her floorboards, a warm, grounding comfort that slowly began to push out the cold, stagnant memories of her old life.
At St. Jude Community Hospital, a low-slung brick building overlooking the ocean, Leah integrated into the telemetry unit with effortless
