The call came on an ordinary afternoon.
No urgency in the tone.
No crisis embedded in the timing.
That, more than anything else, was what made Aaliyah answer.
She was sitting at the desk by the window, not writing, just rereading something she'd abandoned weeks earlier, when her phone vibrated softly. An unfamiliar number. She let it ring once, then picked up.
"Aaliyah," the voice said. Calm. Measured. "This is Dr. Lenora Hale."
The name settled slowly.
Lenora Hale hadn't been visible in years. Not publicly. Not institutionally. She was one of those figures whose influence survived absence, someone who had shaped entire methodologies and then stepped away before they calcified around her.
"Yes," Aaliyah said. "I know who you are."
Lenora smiled on the other end. Aaliyah could hear it. "I hoped you would."
There was a pause. Not awkward. Intentional.
"I'm not calling to ask you for anything," Lenora said. "I'm calling because I'm stepping down."
