It starts stupidly normal.
Like nothing in the world is about to shift.
I’m behind the counter, pretending to care about how straight the napkins are. I’ve already fixed them twice. Nobody notices. Nobody cares. I just need my hands busy.
The café is full in that soft way. Not chaotic. Just alive. Cups clinking. Someone typing too aggressively on a laptop. A couple whispering like the world will end if anyone hears them.
I like this kind of noise. It doesn’t ask anything from me.
My phone buzzes in my apron.
I ignore it.
It buzzes again.
I press my lips together. Still ignore it.
“Mara,” I call, not looking up. “If that’s you sending me another ‘you forgot to eat’ text, I’m fine.”
No response.
Instead, she appears in front of me.
“Solene.”
Mara’s voice.
Too calm.
I look up.
