"Good Neighbor's" parole felt like walking a tightrope. Every time a car sped down the street or a stranger entered the restaurant, the locals would look at Elias.

He spent his days in a haze of manual labor—removing the last of the debris and installing new, clean drywall. His muscles screamed and his hands were permanently stained with gray dust, but the physical work felt like the only thing that kept him grounded.

Clara, meanwhile, had begun painting again. She set up her easel at the front