She sat down and opened the laptop. Connor had already walked off, towel slung over his shoulder. She clicked past the desktop, ignoring her own reflection in the screen. No hesitation this time. She went straight to the calendar—his personal roadmap of every day, every hour.
The layout was neat and color-coded, just like she remembered. Meetings, appointments, reminders. She scrolled slowly, letting her eyes adjust. Then she saw it. A small recurring block on Tuesdays and Thursdays: “Elena – 6PM @ Bloomingdale Ave.” Not a company. Not a task. A name. A location.