Marcus's POV
Walking Anna home feels different tonight.
Not heavier—steadier. Like something fragile finally settled into place instead of shattering the second I touched it. Her hand fits into mine like muscle memory, like my body knew the shape of her before my head ever caught up.
The streetlights flicker as we walk, casting long shadows that stretch and shrink with every step. Courtney and Damian peel off a block earlier, still murmuring to each other like they’re the only two people left in the world. I shake my head, half-amused, half-stunned by how fast things can change.
Anna notices. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. And for once, it’s the truth. “Just… processing.”
She smiles softly. “You always do that face when you’re thinking too hard.”
“What face?”
“That one,” she says, tap
