Kat hadn’t left her room all day.
I’d knocked once around noon. No answer. Knocked again at three. Still nothing. By six, I stopped pretending I wasn’t worried.
She wasn’t just hiding. She was bracing.
I ordered pizza—extra cheese, no mushrooms. Grabbed her favorite candy from the stash in my office drawer. Popped in one of those old movies she liked, the kind with too much rain and not enough plot. Then I knocked a third time. This time, I didn’t wait.
“Kat,” I said gently, pushing the door open.
She was curled up on the bed, hoodie pulled tight around her face like armor. Her eyes flicked to me, then back to the wall.
“I brought bribes,” I said, holding up the pizza box. “And sugar. And bad cinema.”
She didn’t smile, but she didn’t look away either.
I sat down beside her, careful
