The night lay quiet across the balcony, its calm gentle yet unfamiliar, as if peace had been placed there with intent, and Ella stood at the edge with her hands resting on the cold railing, her gaze fixed on the distant lights of San Diego where people moved without knowing.
The air brushed lightly against her skin without threat or urgency, yet her shoulders stayed tense and her breath did not fully relax, as though her body no longer trusted a moment that asked nothing of her.
Behind her, the apartment remained still, a place that should have felt safe, yet the absence of danger unsettled her more than danger itself ever had.
She exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening slightly against the railing, her posture calm on the outside while her thoughts moved restlessly beneath.
"It's quiet," she said.
Her voice was low.
