Nadia POV
The apartment key had a paper tag on the ring with the unit number written in blue ballpoint. 4C. I stood outside the door for a moment before I put the key in the lock and turned it.
The door swung inward. I stepped inside.
The apartment was small, quiet, and full of winter light from the two windows facing the alley. The hardwood floors were dark honey, scuffed near the door. The ceiling had a thin crack running above the kitchen doorway. The radiator made a rhythmic knocking sound.
I set my bag down in the middle of the floor.
There were no boxes from Ryder stacked by the closet. No cereal boxes from Petra on the counter. No one's name was on the lease except mine.
I stood there until the radiator went quiet.
"Okay," I whispered to the empty room.
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