The sun dipped low behind the trees, casting amber streaks across the pavement as Aria climbed the last flight of stairs to her apartment. Her hands trembled slightly as she turned the key, each click of the lock feeling heavier than it should. Once inside, she shut the door with a soft thud and stood still, staring into the quiet. The hush wasn’t comforting this time—it was hollow, fragile, as though one wrong breath might c***k it wide open.
The café, Lucas’s voice, the way the world had watched her fall apart again—all of it still echoed in her bones.
She moved like muscle memory. Shoes by the mat. Kettle on. Curtains drawn. Every movement practiced, every breath measured. But the silence in her chest was starting to scream. She leaned against the counter, hands braced flat, shoulders
