Gaps don't stay empty.
They never do.
When authority loosens and structure pulls back, something always grows in the space between intention and outcome. Sometimes it's kindness. Sometimes it's confusion. Most often, it's habit—quiet, stubborn, difficult to uproot.
The morning after the meeting felt different.
Not calmer.
Settled.
The city hadn't reverted, and it hadn't advanced. It had paused long enough for new routines to start forming in places no one had planned for.
Arjun noticed it as we passed a market street.
"Same faces," he said.
"Same time."
"Yes," I replied.
"They're returning."
The girl watched a group of volunteers rearranging crates into makeshift seating—no signs, no coordination chart. Just muscle memory already taking shape.
"They didn't wait for permission," she said.
"No," Aaryan replied.
"They waited for repetition."
✦
We stopped near the clinic—but not inside it.
