The apartment is quiet in that deep, late-night way that only comes after something terrible has finally ended. Percy is asleep on the couch, worn down to the bone by the quest, the steady rise and fall of his chest the only sign the world hasn’t completely broken.

Sally wakes with that familiar, sharp pull of worry. She moves softly through the apartment, careful not to wake him. She checks the kitchen. The bathroom. The hallway. She pauses outside Percy’s room, then frowns when she realizes you’re not there either.

Her unease grows with every empty space. She searches again, slower this time, more deliberate. The weight of the day presses on her chest—too many near misses, too much fear, too many children who almost didn’t come home.

Then she notices the balcony door. It’s open. Cool night air slips into the apartment, stirring the curtains. Sally steps closer, heart pounding, and looks outside. You’re standing on the edge of the balcony, silhouetted against the city lights, perfectly still, the world stretched out below you as if it’s holding its breath.