The call came just after noon.
Mara was in the middle of reviewing a deposition when her phone buzzed across the table. She glanced at the screen, irritation flaring until she saw her sister's name.
She hesitated.
Family calls during work hours were never casual.
"Mara," Ada said the moment she answered. "Where are you?"
"In France," Mara replied automatically. "I told you that."
"Yes, I know. But listen to me carefully." Ada's voice tightened. "I just spoke to Aunt Ifunanya."
Mara closed her eyes.
That explained the knot forming in her stomach.
"She says the probate lawyer found something new," Ada continued. "There's an issue with the property transfer. They might contest the will."
Mara straightened slowly. "Contest on what grounds?"
"They're saying your mother wasn't of sound mind when she signed the amendment."
The room went very still.
"That's absurd," Mara said flatly. "She was sick, not incompetent."
"I know," Ada said quickly. "But it means delays. Court appearances. Possibly testimony."
February tightened its grip.
"When?" Mara asked.
"Soon. They want you back within the week."
Mara stared at the wall, her thoughts scattering. The plan she'd built precise, contained fractured instantly.
"I can't," she said. "The trains."
"I know. But you may not have a choice."
After the call ended, Mara sat unmoving for a long time.
So this was how February did it.
Just when she let herself breathe just when something began to feel… lighter the ground shifted beneath her feet.
She heard the apartment door open not long after.
Julien's footsteps moved through the entryway, familiar now. She hated how familiar they'd become.
"You're back early," he said gently, noticing her posture, the tension coiled tight in her shoulders.
"I need to leave," she replied.
The abruptness made him stop.
"Leave?" he echoed.
"Yes. As soon as possible."
He studied her carefully. "Did something happen?"
She nodded. "Family. Legal issues."
"Are you okay?"
The question was quiet. Earnest.
She didn't trust it.
"I don't have time to talk about it," she said, standing abruptly. "I need to make arrangements."
Julien frowned slightly. "Mara."
"This is why I said we needed boundaries," she snapped, the words sharper than she intended. "Things get complicated when people start caring."
The hurt flashed across his face before he masked it.
"I wasn't asking you to stay," he said calmly. "I was asking if you're alright."
She hated herself for the way his restraint made her defensive.
"I don't need this," she said. "I don't need whatever this is."
Silence fell.
Then Julien said quietly, "You don't get to decide what this is alone."
That stopped her.
She turned to face him, anger and fear tangling dangerously in her chest. "I didn't invite you into my life."
"No," he agreed. "But you let me stay."
The truth of it burned.
She grabbed her coat. "This was a mistake."
Julien didn't move to block her.
Instead, he said something worse.
"You're running," he said softly. "And you know it."
Her throat closed.
"I survive," she corrected. "There's a difference."
"Not always."
She left before he could say anything else.
The cold outside felt punishing, biting through her clothes. Snow fell steadily, the town wrapped in false calm.
Mara walked without direction, her thoughts spiraling.
She had promised herself she wouldn't do this again. Wouldn't let February crack her open just to remind her how fragile she still was.
Love didn't heal loss.
It multiplied it.
By the time she returned to the apartment hours later, her resolve had hardened into something sharp and brittle.
Julien was in the living room, packing a bag.
Her chest lurched painfully.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
He looked up, expression unreadable. "Giving you space."
The words hit harder than any accusation could have.
"I didn't ask you to leave," she said.
"You didn't have to."
She crossed the room, stopping a careful distance away. "This isn't what you think."
"Then tell me what it is," he said quietly.
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because the truth was dangerous.
Because saying I don't know how to want something without losing it felt too close to begging.
Julien zipped the bag and slung it over his shoulder.
"I'll be back tomorrow," he said. "After the storm clears."
Her heart dropped.
"And if I'm not?" he added gently. "Then you'll know you chose this."
He left.
The door closed softly behind him.
Mara stood alone in the apartment, the silence roaring louder than the storm outside.
February had finally done what it always did.
It took something the moment she admitted she wanted it.
And this time, she wasn't sure survival would be enough.