He didn’t say another word. He just kept holding my hand as he turned toward the door. His step was calm, steady-each one echoing softly against the floor-and I followed, because I didn’t know what else to do.
His grip wasn’t painful. But it was firm, guiding, like there was an invisible thread pulling me along. My thoughts were spinning too fast to catch. My heart felt heavy in my chest, each beat louder than the sound of our footsteps.
I wanted to ask what was happening, where he was taking me, but something in the way he moved-so sure, so controlled-kept my voice trapped inside me.
We stepped out into the hallway. The air was cooler there, brushing against my skin and sending a small shiver down my arms. His hand was still around mine-warm, unrelenting.
I forced myself to speak, e
