XXIX
The car rolled to a smooth halt outside Sasha’s building, but she remained frozen in her seat, her fingers curled tightly in her lap. For a moment, she simply stared ahead, the looming facade of her apartment offering no comfort, only an echo of emptiness she had grown far too familiar with. Her hand hovered over the door handle, hesitant, almost reluctant. The weight of her thoughts pressed heavily against her chest, like a vice tightening, making it difficult to breathe—let alone acknowledge the presence of the man seated silently beside her. Samuel said nothing. But his gaze lingered, she could feel it—an unspoken question hanging thickly in the air between them. It wasn’t demanding, nor pushy, but it was *there*, heavy and expectant. Maybe he was waiting for a polite invitation ins
- Writer
