The apartment building was quiet, the kind of silence that clung to the walls after midnight. Only the occasional hum of an old fluorescent light in the hallway broke it, the faint buzzing serving as a reminder that Ash was still in the world of the living. He sat cross-legged on the cold floor outside Cordelia’s door, his broad shoulders pressed against the wall, his head tilted forward in thought. His phone had long since gone dark in his pocket, untouched. He didn’t need it. His focus was only on the thin wooden barrier in front of him—on her.
Hours had passed since he first arrived, and still Cordelia had not let him in. Ash hadn’t pressed, hadn’t knocked again, hadn’t raised his voice. He didn’t dare. All he did was talk at first—quiet words through the door, telling her about Haru,
