The return to our daily life was a slow descent back into reality. The moment the private jet touched down on the tarmac, the familiar air of the city clung to my skin like a second coat of armor. The corporate car dropped Mason off at his penthouse first, and then, under his silent instruction to the driver, routed back toward my neighborhood.
When I finally stepped over the threshold of my parents' house, the familiar, suffocating weight of the cage hit me instantly… as always. My mother didn't even look up from her usual spot on the sofa, her face illuminated by the cold blue light of her phone screen. To her, my departure and return were entirely inconsequential, so long as the paycheck cleared at the end of the month. I slipped past her like a phantom, retreated to my tiny bedroom, a
