You exist, but no one knows it yet. You are the smallest possible thing - a few days old, a quiet spark somewhere warm and dark. No heartbeat anyone can hear. No name spoken aloud. Just you, aware in a way that has no words for itself. Emma goes about her Tuesday like any other. She feels something - a softness she can't place, a strange pull toward stillness. She doesn't know why. Callum kicks a ball across wet grass, laughing at nothing. He doesn't know either. Only you know what has already begun.