He turns to leave like this is settled. Like the decision has already been made and the night will simply move around it.
"Munro."
The name feels heavier in my mouth than it should.
Real. Anchored.
He stops with his hand on the door, not stiffening, not turning yet — just pausing, like he's deciding whether to hear me at all.
"Stay," I say.
The word surprises me as much as it does him.
"Not — " I swallow then try again.
"Not like that. Just... stay a little longer."
He turns slowly. Studies me the way he does when he's deciding whether something is a threat.
The silence stretches.
"You don't need me here," he says finally. Not unkind. Not cold. Just factual.
"I know," I say. "That's not why I'm asking."
His eyes narrow slightly. Not in suspicion — calculation.
"Then why?"
I
