Later, alone in her apartment, Juniper stood at the window, her palm pressed against the cool glass. The storm’s fury had gentled into a steady rhythm that echoed the beating of her own heart.

What the hell was that?

Tomorrow they’d return to their roles, pretend tonight was just work running late. But for now, she let herself linger in the memory of his hand at her hip, his warmth beside her, the way his eyes had held hers like he was trying to memorize something.

Some lines weren’t meant to be crossed. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

So why does it feel like I already did?

The city spread out before her, a tapestry of light and shadow and all the space between. And somewhere out there, Daniel was moving through the storm.

Was he thinking about her too?

Probably not.

…Maybe?

She pulled her hand from the glass, the cold still clinging to her palm. Tomorrow there’d be the festival, if she didn’t panic and unsend that message. Tomorrow there’d be Sophia asking questions Juniper didn’t have answers to. Tomorrow there’d be the case, and the affected, and all the reasons this was complicated.

But tonight, standing here with her reflection ghost-like in the window and her heart doing something arrhythmic in her chest, she felt the pull of it. That invisible thread, still taut between them.

Still waiting.