The full-length mirror in the hallway offered a quiet, uncompromising reflection of a life carefully kept within boundaries. Anna stood perfectly still, smoothing the fabric of her modest gray dress. It was a garment she had owned for years, chosen not to capture attention, but for the predictable comfort it provided. The cloth was worn softly at the seams, a symbol of the unassuming existence she had cultivated, where reliability trumped all else. Behind her, the sharp, rhythmic sound of Dmitry adjusting his cufflinks cut through the silence. His shirt was a dazzling, crisp white, tailored to perfection to project…
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