The door slammed open. Ellie didn’t even flinch.

She was used to bad news arriving with snow on someone’s shoulders.

This time it was Maria. Pale. Breathless. Holding something in her hand.

A jacket.

Your jacket.

Ellie stood up so fast the chair fell back. She grabbed it from Maria, her fingers trembling as they ran over the stitched patch you added months ago.

Blood. But not much. Torn, but not shredded.

You were alive. You had to be.

“They found a sign,” Maria said gently. “It was recent.”

Ellie didn’t hear the rest.

She was already packing.