The office was quiet, sunlight slanting through the blinds, casting warm lines across the worn wooden desk where Mason sat.
Evelyn sat across from him, fingers loosely curled around a cup of tea she hadn’t touched, her heart steady but curious as she watched him lean back in his chair, studying her with that calm, thoughtful look he always wore when something serious was coming.
Mason’s voice was steady when he finally spoke.
“You’ve done a hell of a lot of surviving, Ev,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “But I think it’s time you start living.”
She blinked, caught off guard by the directness of it.
He held her gaze, no judgment, just quiet sincerity.
“I need to ask you something,” he continued. “And I want you to really think about it.”
Evelyn swallowed, nodding once.
“What do
