Aria stopped believing in signs the night Damien left.
No more 11:11 wishes.
No more songs playing at the "right" moment.
No more cosmic choreography convincing her that pain had purpose.
The universe had gone quiet.
So she did too.
Six months later, she stood in the middle of her new apartment surrounded by half-open boxes and sunlight that didn't quite reach the corners.
It wasn't big. It wasn't glamorous. But it was hers.
No shared memories lived in these walls. No laughter echoed from the kitchen. No shadows carried his shape.
Clean slate.
She liked the sound of that. Even if it felt like learning to breathe underwater.
Her phone buzzed on the counter.
Unknown number.
She stared at it longer than necessary. Her pulse betrayed her first, skipping ahead like it already knew something she didn't.
She answered.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Not static. Not a wrong number hang up.
Breathing.
Slow. Measured. Familiar in a way that made her spine straighten.
"Aria."
