Chapter 2

The hum of the planetarium had faded into a low, resonant thrum in my bones, but the silence in the adjacent exhibit hall was heavier, more electric. We had slipped away from the main crowd, leaving the families and the couples who had lingered under the dome’s artificial stars. Now, it was just us, navigating the dimly lit corridors of the science museum after hours. The air smelled of ozone, old paper, and the sharp, clean scent of floor wax, mixed with the faint, musky aroma of his cologne that seemed to cling to the air wherever he walked. He led me by the hand, his fingers interlaced with mine, his grip firm and possessive. I didn’t resist. I never did. There was a comfort in his control, a grounding weight that anchored me when my mind began to drift in that specific, dizzying way it did when he was near. We turned a corner, away from the interactive robotics displays, and found ourselves in a quieter, semi-circular alcove dedicated to the history of navigation. The lighting here was softer, casting long, amber shadows against the glass cases filled with brass sextants and old leather-bound charts. "Here," he murmured, his