The late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of Haru’s small apartment, casting golden stripes across the floor. Violet stood outside the door, hand raised to knock but hesitating. After her conversation with Devil, something in her heart told her things were unraveling faster than anyone realized.
She knocked softly.
A beat passed. Then another.
The door opened, and there stood Haru—her face pale, eyes shadowed, smile too practiced.
“Vee,” she said, voice light. “Didn’t expect you.”
Violet stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. The scent of chamomile and something faintly metallic lingered in the air. Haru had been packing—boxes were neatly stacked in the corner, taped shut. A suitcase sat by the wall.
“I came to see how you’re doing,” Violet said gently, eyes scannin
