Chapter 17
Back in his modern suburban home, Craig sat at his desk reviewing the final analytics report for his digital storytelling enterprise, feeling a deep, abiding sense of professional and personal equilibrium. The digital serials he and Sloan had been producing were climbing the charts of major web fiction platforms, garnering millions of views and establishing their brand as a powerhouse in modern narrative media. Sloan walked into the office carrying two steaming mugs of herbal tea, placing one gently beside his keyboard before leaning down to kiss the top of his head. "You've been staring at those engagement metrics for twenty minutes. Take a break, Craig. We earned this weekend," she said with a warm, playful smile. Craig smiled back, leaning back in his chair and wrapping his hands around the ceramic mug, letting the soothing heat radiate through his fingers. "I'm just reflecting on how much everything has changed, Sloan. It feels like we're living in an entirely different timeline," he admitted quietly. Sloan pulled up a chair beside him, her brown eyes softening with affectionate pride. "That's because you finally stopped pouring your energy into a bucket with a hole in the bottom, Craig. You redirected your focus where it actually mattered," she reminded him gently. As if summoned by their conversation, Craig's smartphone—lying quietly face-down on the wooden desk—buzzed once with a sharp, insistent vibration. Neither of them flinched; the reflex of anxiety that once accompanied every incoming alert had long since vanished. Craig picked up the phone, turning it over to check the screen. The caller ID displayed an unknown local number, but a subtle intuition whispered that the message originated from the quiet, frozen halls of Richmond. He looked at the screen for a long, contemplative moment, his thumb hovering over the decline button, weighing whether to grant a final fraction of his attention to a chapter of his life that he had already closed and locked forever.
