Recovery is supposed to be quiet.
It is supposed to feel like healing.
Like soft light and slowed breath and distance from noise.
For Mira, it felt like watching a live wire she used to control spark without her hand on it.
The Commission building looked the same from the observatory.
Same stone façade.
Same guarded entrances.
Same circular chamber at its heart.
But she was not inside it.
For the first time since consolidation, she was not at the center of its daily gravity.
Daniel was.
Temporarily.
Three-week delegated authority.
Partial oversight.
Emergency powers redistributed but still anchored to her.
On paper, nothing had changed.
In reality, everything felt different.
The first three days of her partial leave were manageable.
Scheduled updates.
Short briefings.
Strictly limited hours.
Adrian enforced it like a silent security detail.
"No more than two calls," he'd say.
"No more than thirty minutes."
She would glare.
He would not bend.
