Staying, Aaliyah learned, was its own kind of discipline.
Not the rigid kind she had practiced for years, alert, anticipatory, always slightly ahead of the moment, but a softer vigilance. One that required attention without agenda, awareness without intervention.
She noticed it in how she listened now.
Not for what needed to be corrected.
Not for what might collapse.
But for what was already whole.
The day began without ceremony.
Rowan left early for an errand, the door closing gently behind her. Aaliyah remained at the table, tea cooling untouched, watching steam lift and vanish. The quiet felt expansive rather than empty.
She didn't fill it.
She let it stand.
Later, she met someone new, not a leader, not someone at the edge of departure. Just a woman introduced through a mutual acquaintance, curious but unburdened by ambition.
They walked together along a tree-lined street, conversation drifting easily.
"What do you do now?" the woman asked, not prying, just curious.
