Ella:
Raiden was gone.
No time. No explanation. Just… gone.
His voice still echoed in the hallway, loud and raw from that phone call. I sat there for a while after he slammed the door, unmoving, fork limp in my hand, staring down at the eggs I’d helped him finish cooking. My appetite vanished with the click of the lock behind him, but I made myself eat. For me. For the baby.
The apartment was silent except for the ticking of a clock somewhere and the occasional groan of old pipes. I glanced around between bites. His place was small, a two-bedroom from what I could tell, and cold. Not in temperature—no, it was warm enough in here—but in atmosphere. It was bare bones. Practical. Masculine. Lived-in but not loved.
He didn’t decorate. The walls were blank, untouched. The couch was charcoa
