Morning meets them outside the club like a soft, beautiful lie.
The sky is a pale, washed-out blue—the kind of color that pretends everything is new and untouched again. Amelia steps into the light with feet that ache and lungs that feel heavy, the cold morning air brushing against her face like a question she isn’t ready to answer.
Iris locks the heavy back door behind them, the metallic click sounding final in the quiet alley.
Neither of them speaks at first. Their footsteps echo down the street, a hollow percussion in a city that is still half-asleep. An occasional car passes, its tires hissing against the damp asphalt like a secret. Somewhere far away, a bird sings—a sound too cheerful, too unaware of the weight pressing down on the pavement.
Amelia’s hands are shaking.
She s
