The moon was high when he knocked.
Sofia had been lying still for hours, eyes open in the dark, the hum of the summit quiet around her. She hadn’t changed out of her dress. Hadn’t brushed her hair. Just sat with her back against the headboard, staring out the open window as night thickened around her.
She was tired. But not from lack of sleep. From waiting.
From carrying the ache of a conversation that never came.
So when the knock came—soft, once, then again—her breath caught like a string pulled tight in her chest.
She stood. Barefoot. Slow.
Her hand hesitated on the doorknob. Not because she didn’t know who it was. But because she did. And because opening that door meant deciding what she was willing to risk. Her pride. Her peace. Her heart. Again.
When the door opened, the hallw
