The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. Even the city outside, alive with the hum of lights and traffic, seemed to pause, waiting. I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands clasped loosely in my lap, my eyes tracing the shadows that danced along the walls. The air smelled faintly of whiskey and smoke, lingering from the bottle he had left on the nightstand.
Valen leaned against the doorway, shoulders heavy, face shadowed by the dim light. I could see the weight in his movements, the kind of weight that comes from years of choices no one else could understand. He didn’t speak immediately. He just stood there, silent, letting the tension stretch between us like a taut wire.
Finally, he moved closer, slow, deliberate, and sat beside me. His hand hovered for a moment, then brushed mine, gentle, alm
