No one stepped forward.
That was the first thing Aria noticed.
They stood where she had told them to stand—no shifting, no testing, no small rebellions disguised as comfort. Seven figures in a corridor that remembered their boots too well.
The air wasn't hostile.
It wasn't friendly either.
It was evaluative.
No Embrace, No Relief
"…You're thinner," someone said at last.
Not concern.
Observation.
Aria glanced down at herself once, then back up.
"Less dead weight," she replied.
A corner of a mouth twitched.
Then stilled.
The Old Habit Resurfaces
They arranged themselves without speaking.
Angles adjusted.
Sightlines cleared.
No one blocked exits.
Not surrounding her.
Never that.
They had learned the hard way what happened when they did.
"…Still doing it," Aria said quietly.
A man with scars along his knuckles shrugged.
"Some habits keep you alive."
"Some get you killed," she replied.
That ended the conversation.
Names Aren't Used
No one said hers.
No one said theirs.
Names created intimacy.
Intimacy implied forgiveness.
They weren't there yet.
The First Question Comes Late
"…Are you stable?" a woman asked finally.
Aria considered.
Not the answer.
The meaning.
"Yes," she said.
It was true.
Which was why it wasn't enough.
Noah Watches, Silent
From the doorway, Noah leaned heavily against the frame, painkillers dulling but not erasing reality.
He felt twelve again.
Out of his depth.
Watching adults decide things that would reshape his life.
"…They're not here to save her," he thought.
"…They're here to judge."
The Unspoken Accusation
"You didn't call," someone said.
Not angry.
Accurate.
"I didn't need you," Aria replied.
A pause.
"…And now?" another asked.
She met his eyes.
"Now you're here," she said.
"That's on you."
Tension Sharpens
A man shifted his weight.
Just a fraction.
Testing.
Aria saw it.
Everyone did.
The corridor tightened.
"…Don't," someone warned quietly.
The man stilled.
What This Reunion Really Is
This wasn't relief.
It wasn't grief.
It was recalibration.
Old systems adjusting to a variable they had never solved.
Aria Lane—
Alive.
Active.
Not asking permission.
Closing Beat
Aria folded her arms.
"You didn't come for closure," she said.
Silence.
"…You came to see if I still mattered."
She uncrossed her arms.
"Now you've seen me."
Her gaze swept the line.
"Decide."
No one answered.
Because the answer was already forming.
And it wasn't warm.