At dawn, Elena checks her phone—a separate burner she's kept secret until now. I watch her send a brief text to someone labeled only as "R." She notices my puzzled look and sighs.
"A friend… well, maybe more an acquaintance from my old life," she admits, shifting awkwardly. "He once said he could help if I ever needed a fresh start. I never thought I'd actually need it."
Hope flickers in me. "Where is he?"
She shrugs. "He travels. Smuggles people across borders sometimes. If he responds, we might have a route out of the country."
It's a "WTF" revelation—she might have known a smuggler all along? But I hold my tongue. If he can help us vanish for good, I'll take it. We wait, tension mounting. The morning stretches, no reply. Outside, the diner remains closed, the old woman presumably sleeping in. Each passing hour feels like borrowed time.