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A sepia-toned illustration on a scroll depicts a woman smiling and holding a coffee cup at a cafe table, with a man in glasses gesturing beside her. Other patrons are blurred in the background, and a sign titled "Epilogue" hangs above.

A sepia-toned illustration on a scroll depicts a woman smiling and holding a coffee cup at a cafe table, with a man in glasses gesturing beside her. Other patrons are blurred in the background, and a sign titled "Epilogue" hangs above.

Make this into a scroll. This is the Epilogue: Three months later, Zoey was back to her usual café. Same window seat. Same oat milk latte. But this time, no habit of looking over her shoulder. She was no longer scanning for Xander’s reflection in the glass. Her browser tabs were filled with cybersecurity audits, not private investigations. And her heart? Still guarded, but no longer under surveillance. One of the baristas—new guy, tall, nerdy, charming in a quiet way—made a joke about hashing algorithms that actually made her laugh. “Sorry,” he said, suddenly shy. “That probably only works on one in a million.” Zoey smiled. “One in a million is still one.” She didn’t give him her number. But she didn’t delete the idea either. That night, she joined the group call. Luna was in the middle of analyzing a guy’s voice inflection from a dating app. Chloe was yelling at her TV while editing security footage. Brianna was stress-testing someone’s encrypted messenger for fun. It felt… normal. “We’re healing,” Luna said softly, when the conversation dipped. “Is that what we’re calling it?” Brianna replied. “We are,” Zoey answered. “And we’re doing it our way.” A pause. Then four nods. Not dramatic. Not sentimental. Just solid. Before she logged off, Zoey opened a new document. She titled it: “The Playbook (Beta Version)” Below it, she typed: How to spot a liar. How to take back the narrative. How to build firewalls around your mind and your heart. How to burn the evidence… without See more