Sunday morning at Pearl Villa carried a quiet charm that felt untouched by the chaos unfolding across cities. The maple forest beside the villa shimmered under soft sunlight, its leaves whispering gently with every passing breeze. The ground still held a faint trace of morning dew, and the air was crisp, fresh, and alive.
Miles stepped onto the narrow path, bending slightly as he tightened the laces of his running shoes. His movements were precise and habitual, the kind that came from years of discipline rather than effort. Once done, he straightened and began running forward, his pace steady and controlled.
