Trust changed how forward motion felt.
Aaliyah noticed it when she realized she was no longer waiting for confirmation before taking the next small step. Not approval. Not reassurance. Just the quiet internal sense that something was ready to move.
The feeling didn't rush her.
It invited her.
The morning began like many others, coffee, light through the window, Rowan moving in the kitchen—but Aaliyah felt a subtle difference in herself. An inclination, not toward action exactly, but toward articulation.
She wanted to say something.
Not publicly.
Not formally.
Just clearly.
At the studio, she arrived earlier than usual. The space was empty, the tables bare, the quiet expansive. She chose a seat and sat without reaching for anything.
For a long time, she did nothing.
Then she opened her notebook.
Not the one she carried everywhere, but the one she'd kept separate, reserved for things she wasn't ready to shape.
She began to write.
Not lines.
Not sketches.
Words.
