Almost midnight. Noah Hart was still at his desk in the clinic, reviewing reports with the precision of someone who refuses mistakes. Silence filled the room, broken only by the hum of the air conditioner and the steady breathing of Zeus, his Doberman, watchful as if sensing his master's tension.
Noah adjusted his gray shirt collar and looked out the window. The city lights shimmered like urban stars reflected in his sharp green eyes. He always planned every step, every decision. Yet at that moment, nothing felt enough. Something inside him longed for courage without guarantees.
He grabbed his backpack, checked every pocket, every zipper. Standing at the door, he held the handle firmly. Zeus brushed against his leg, offering silent support. "It's time," Noah whispered. The door opened. Outside, the unknown awaited.