I woke up before my alarm.
That alone told me something had changed.
The city outside my window was just beginning to stir—delivery trucks rumbling faintly down the street, the distant clink of café shutters lifting, the muted hum of Paris stretching awake. Pale light filtered through the curtains, soft and unassuming.
I lay there for a moment longer than necessary, listening.
No rush.
No weight pressing down on my chest.
Just… quiet.
When I finally sat up, I realized I wasn't bracing myself for the day the way I usually did. There was no tight knot in my stomach, no frantic mental checklist already unfolding.
That was new.
I moved through my small apartment slowly, tying my hair back, washing my face, slipping into clothes chosen more for comfort than armor. When I checked the time, I frowned.
I was early.
Another first.
