I still remember that evening clearly—the air heavy with the smell of rain and asphalt, streetlights flickering like they were tired too. I was walking home after a long shift, my tie loosened, my mind replaying numbers and deadlines, when I heard raised voices ahead of me.
At first, I tried to ignore it. City noises blur together—arguments, laughter, sirens. But then I heard her voice. Sharp. Controlled. Not scared, exactly… but strained.
“Please, stop,” she said.
That made me slow down.
