Eliana tugged at her scarf the moment they stepped through the glass doors, fingers worrying the fabric as if it might steady her, the lobby opening in front of her too bright, too familiar, the polished floors and high ceilings hitting her with a rush of memory that made her chest tighten.
It had been almost four months.
Not long enough to be forgotten.
She hadn't even cleared the entrance when a sharp gasp cut through the low morning hum.
"Eliana?"
Pamela's voice rose with disbelief, then delight, and before Eliana could fully turn, Pamela was already hurrying toward her, eyes wide, hands lifted like she needed to touch her just to be sure.
"Oh my God," Pamela said, stopping short to look at her properly, her gaze sweeping over Eliana's face, the scarf, the nerves she wasn't hiding very well. Then she laughed, sudden and bright, and lifted her chin. "Do I look good?"
