Elena's POV
Leaving didn't feel as hard as I thought it would, nor was it as dramatic as I slightly expected.
There was no slammed door, no last look over my shoulder, no cinematic moment where the world paused to acknowledge that something important had just ended. I handed in my access card, signed the final document, and stepped out of Start Accounting into a city that kept breathing as if nothing had happened at all.
Mondrovia was busy that afternoon. The car traffic honked at the junctions, and I saw some vendors arguing over prices. A group of teenagers laughed too loudly near a café, their joy reckless and unearned.
I stood on the pavement for a long moment, my bag hanging from my shoulder, and realized my hands were shaking.
Not from fear, but from restraint.
