s empty street murmured around her, quiet and strange, like the city was holding its breath. Her hands were red with cold. She hadn't eaten since morning. A pack of discounted pasta sat in her bag l

econds," he said quietly. "If you're still here after that, I will not be responsible for what happens to your teeth." The men laughed at first. Until he pulled a phone from his coat pocket. "Smile for the CCTV," he added. "Every meter of this alley is covered." That was a lie. Juliana knew it. But the men hesitated. Leonardo stepped forward once. That was enough. They threw a few sharp words her way, shouldered past, and disappeared around the corner. She did not move. Her breath stuttered, hands unsteady, every part of her strung tight. He turned to her. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head, unable to speak. "Juliana, right?" She blinked, startled. "How do you know my name?" He arched a brow. "You sit in the second row, third seat from the left. Your essays are too clean to be rushed. And your margins are always precisely folded." She let out something between a laugh and a sob. "I didn't think you noticed anyone." "I didn't," he said. "Until now." They walked back in silence. Brighton felt still now. Even the air seemed thinner, like the danger had lifted a layer of noise they had not noticed until it was gone. She glanced at him. "Why were you in that alley?" "I live nearby. I take the long way home." He paused. "My neighbors are loud." She smiled faintly. "I know. I can hear Mrs. Adele's TV from my window." That surprised him. "You live in Carlton S