The name did not disappear after it was spoken.
It stayed.
Not loudly, not dramatically, but with a quiet weight that settled into the room and refused to leave, as if it had been waiting for the right moment to exist again.
Vanessa stood still, her posture controlled, her expression composed, but inside, something had already shifted. The past she had neatly stored away, organized and unfinished but contained, had begun to move, and the moment it moved, it stopped being something she could ignore.
Arden Vale.
She had not said that name in years, not out loud, not even in her own thoughts. It had become one of those things she had trained herself to leave alone, because some questions, once reopened, refused to close again.
Marco studied her carefully, his usual casual tone replaced with something quieter, more attentive. He didn't interrupt immediately, which in itself was unusual, because even he understood that this wasn't a moment to break with humor.
