Cyril had found a rhythm at work—nothing spectacular, but it was a rhythm nonetheless. She showed up, kept her head down, and tried to stay focused on the tasks at hand. She was still adjusting to the reality of working at the same place as her father, but for the first time in weeks, she felt a glimmer of something else: normalcy.
Her mind still wandered sometimes, of course—memories of those quiet, haunting moments between her and Alan would surface unexpectedly. But now, instead of dwelling on them, she pushed them aside. She had things to do. She had a life to live. And she was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, there was more to her future than the mistakes of the past.
On a particularly busy Thursday afternoon, Cyril found herself in the office kitchen, staring at the coffe
