Hana
I felt the knock on the door, a measured but forceful sound that yanked me from the gentle fog of slumber.
"Come in," I said, my voice still tinged with sleepiness.
The door swung slowly ajar, and there stood Stephen in the doorway, a tall figure. Though we shared a roof, such moments of peace—calm, measured, and surprisingly intimate—did not come our way often. He walked with subdued authority, each step measured, his eyes a gleam of intention that I had learned to identify over the years. He was a man of few words, and for that reason, his visits meant that much more.
I quickly sat up in bed, adjusting the blanket and propping myself on the edge of the mattress. My heart began to beat faster, not from fear, but from anticipation. Something was different this morning.
“Prepare y
