After taking my time to wash away the remnants of last night and the argument with Martin, I stood in front of the mirror, patting lotion onto my skin and dabbing on the perfume Martin bought for me. The scent curled around me like a soft memory, clearing the annoyance I was feeling.
I slipped into a short, flared dress, its fabric brushing lightly against my thighs. I took one last glance at myself in the mirror before heading to the door, my mind already halfway out of the room.
But when I reached for the doorknob and twisted it, it didn’t budge. Frowning, I tried again, this time with more force. Still nothing. The door was locked. My heart gave a small jolt.
Locked?
I gripped the knob tighter, twisting and pulling with increasing urgency. It was definitely locked.
Did Martin se
