**LILA POV**
**SIX MONTHS LATER**
My alarm goes off at five forty-five every morning, soft chime instead of something violent. I chose it that way on purpose. I sit up before it finishes its second note, feet already finding the floor, body moving through a routine I have practiced until it feels like muscle memory instead of effort. There is comfort in repetition. Comfort in knowing exactly what comes next.
Shower. Black slacks. Pale blouse. Hair pulled back tight enough that it does not invite questions. Light makeup, just enough to look awake. Nothing memorable. Nothing that might linger in someone’s mind longer than necessary. I learned a long time ago that memorable can be dangerous. Invisible is safer.
I leave my room exactly forty minutes later, locking the door behind me with a
