(Joseph POV)
Same floor-to-ceiling windows. Same desk polished to a mirror-like sheen. Same faint scent of paper, ink, and coffee that never quite leaves this place no matter how late it gets.
And yet, it feels different.
I loosen my tie and lean back in my chair, staring at the city lights beyond the glass. Cars move below like veins of light, flowing endlessly, purposefully—never stopping long enough to question where they're headed.
A year.
It's been a full year since everything changed.
I didn't mark the days the way I thought I would. I didn't count them down like a prisoner waiting for release. Instead, time moved quietly, almost respectfully, as if it knew better than to rush what needed to settle.
My work never changed. Contracts still came. Meetings still piled up. Crises still demanded attention.
What changed was who stood beside me through it all.
Yvette.
