7:00 PM — Sara's House
The car coasted to a gentle stop outside a tall white gate nestled between trees. Soft lights blinked on along the path.
Amy stepped out to open the passenger door for her.
"You didn't have to—" Sara began, but smiled when she saw the look on Amy's face.
Amy shrugged. "It felt right."
Sara stepped out, holding her gaze for a beat too long. Then she leaned in — just enough for her braid to brush Amy's shoulder — and whispered, "See you soon?"
Amy nodded. "Yeah. Definitely."
And then she was gone.
…
7:22 PM — Amy's Apartment
Amy stood frozen in the middle of her living room, bag still slung over one shoulder, keys in her hand.
The day replayed itself in flashes — laughter in glass domes, the weight of silence on benches, the shape of Sara's smile at sunset.
She dropped the keys on the counter and exhaled, dazed.
Holy stars.
…
Ametrine stirred under the sheets with no memory of falling asleep.
Her eyes opened to the familiar ceiling of her apartment, dim in the early morning light that filtered in through partially drawn curtains. For a moment, her thoughts were empty, her mind cocooned in sleep's haze. Then—like sunlight breaking through a crack in heavy clouds—it hit her.
The date.
She sat up too fast, heart thudding. The edges of moments flooded in, not chronologically, just impressions: Sara laughing in the arcade, brushing hair from her face as they stood too close in the museum gift shop, her voice soft in the café booth as she'd leaned forward, so close, so warm.
Amy pressed her palms to her cheeks.
She'd gone on a date. With Sara.
And it had gone well.
She blinked at the ceiling, trying to steady her breath. Okay. Okay. You're fine. Her thoughts shifted toward the present—like gravity pulling her back down. Work. Right. Today wasn't just any day.
She had to go to Nymira Technologies.
Swinging her legs off the bed, she padded across the hardwood floor, passing by the mirror without pausing to look. Her body moved on routine—shower, towel, lotion, clothes. She didn't even know what she pulled from the closet. Just something neutral, soft, a professional blouse and slate-gray pants. She brushed her hair loosely behind her ears, not bothering with pins.
Only after dressing did she finally step into the kitchen.
A note glowed on her apartment wall console.
Car from Nymira Headquarters will arrive at 8:20 a.m. Please be ready. — Administrative Office
Amy glanced at the clock. 7:33. Plenty of time.
She made herself coffee—one sugar, no cream—and toast with almond butter, eating in silence at the kitchen bar. The silence wasn't heavy. It was… soft. Echoed by distant warmth she still carried in her chest.
Sara had smiled at her. Had chosen to spend the whole afternoon with her. Had laughed, opened up, stayed close. Amy didn't know what any of it meant yet, but—
Her hand brushed the edge of her phone on the counter. She didn't check it. Not yet. Her heart wasn't ready to reenter that orbit.
Not until work was done.
By the time 8:18 ticked into place, she had gathered her shoulder bag, smoothed down her clothes, and taken one last breath at the door.
The Lilac Ghost would rest today.
Outside, a sleek obsidian car with the silver Nymira emblem was already waiting by the curb, its engine low and purring.
Amy stepped out, locked her apartment, and descended the stairs with quiet purpose.
The driver opened the back door for her without a word.
She slid in, still holding the trace of yesterday behind her eyes.
The date might be over.
But something had begun.
The car door opened with a soft hiss.
Amy stepped out onto pale stone pavement; eyes immediately drawn upward.
Nymira Technologies Headquarters towered into the skyline—sleek, angular, composed of obsidian glass and brushed silver veins that caught the morning light like constellations frozen in motion. The building didn't just rise. It declared presence.
She took a breath. This wasn't just a company. It was her grandmother's legacy.
As she stepped toward the entrance, the polished glass doors parted soundlessly. A man was already waiting for her on the other side, his presence commanding even before he spoke.
He wore a fitted navy suit, crisp and unembellished, with a sleek interface band on his wrist. His silver tie was pinned with the Nymira crest, and his hair—dark with subtle gray—was combed back with meticulous precision. His sharp features were calm, but his eyes were quick and penetrating.
"Miss Elaris," he said, offering his hand. "Welcome. I'm Damon Veiss, CEO of Nymira Technologies. Thank you for joining us."
Amy shook his hand, her own a little colder than she'd realized. "Thank you for having me."
He gave her a nod, then turned fluidly. "Your grandmother had a singular vision. I suspect this will feel familiar in some places, and entirely alien in others."
She followed him inside, heart thudding softly beneath her blouse.