The door creaked open.
Steam spilled into the room.
Warm.
Soft.
Normal.
Everything she wasn’t feeling.
She didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
Her eyes were still locked on the screen.
On that name.
On that truth.
“Hey… you’re still up?”
His voice.
Casual.
Careless.
Like nothing in the world had changed.
But everything had.
She swallowed.
Her throat felt dry.
Heavy.
Slowly—too slowly—she turned her head.
He stood there, towel around his waist.
Hair wet.
Face relaxed.
