I didn’t realize how late it was until the knock came.
It wasn’t frantic or loud. Just a quiet, deliberate sound, three knuckles against the wood. I was on the couch, still dressed in the same leggings and oversized sweatshirt I’d pulled on after work, too drained to care about appearances. The lights were low. A single mug of cold tea sat untouched on the coffee table.
I didn’t move at first. Just stared at my apartment door.
Because I already knew who it was.
Only one person knocked like that, like he owned the world and was still too polite to barge in.
I finally opened it, slowly.
Richard stood in the hallway, unshaven, shadows carved beneath his cheekbones. He wasn’t wearing his usual pressed uniform or even the half-casual councilwear he defaulted to on nights like this. Just a
