But for Mina, it felt like a beginning.

Mina didn’t wake her immediately. Instead, she sat in the dark, watching the slow rise and fall of Elara’s chest. The dashboard clock ticked to . January 16th. Officially the middle of a cold, quiet month. No holiday. No anniversary. Just a Tuesday bleeding into Wednesday.

Mina smiled, eyes on the road. “It’s just a day.”

“Hey yourself.”

Her head was tilted against the window, a thin drool trail connecting her lower lip to the collar of her oversized flannel. They had driven eight hours straight from a music festival in Tennessee, fleeing bad weather and a bad conversation with an ex who’d shown up uninvited. Mina had insisted on driving the whole way. “You rest,” she’d said. “I’ve got you.”