Dorian
I wouldn’t blame her for walking away.
But I’d try my possible best to make sure she didn’t.
My phone buzzed again.
Amia.
Amia.
Amia.
I didn’t answer it. I just let her name flash once, then fade like it never belonged there to begin with.
Of course.
She always knew how to pick the perfect time — right when my blood started cooling and the silence started thinking for itself.
I stared at the phone like it owed me more than a name.
I didn’t move at first.
Because calls like that don’t come with answers. Just impact. And this one? This wasn’t an accident. This was a fracture waiting to finish what it started.
Upstairs—I heard movement.
It wasn’t a creak or a door slam, just soft and rhythmic pacing.
I didn’t need to see her.
Sera wasn’t pacing because of anything ran
