“You’re shaking.”
“I said—I’m fine.”
But I’m not.
I’m still there.
Still hiding.
Still listening for footsteps.
When I get home, the towel’s still in the sink, shriveled and sour with mildew, and I can’t bring myself to touch it. I don’t clean. I don’t move. I just sit with my back against the wall, knees hugged to my chest, staring at nothing.
The room’s dim except for the flicker of a faulty strip light overhead. Shadows stretch long. Every noise from the hallwayoutside makes my heart jump—every footstep, every creak of piping.
Then comes the knock. Three soft taps.
I freeze.
My breath catches.
Then comes the hinge groan.
Roja.
He steps inside like the shadows make room for him. Like he’s not entering but returning.
I don’t look at him. Not right away.
He doesn’t say a damn thing. Just closes the door with a slow, deliberate push. His boots are quiet. His coat smells like hot metal and shipyard dust when he passes. I feel him move through the space more than I see him.
He heads for the burner. Pulls down the old steel kettle I keep for show more than use. His movements are slow, precise. Like ceremony. Like he’s done this before—on nights like this, with someone else’s panic hanging thick in the room.
Water. Flame. Steam.
He opens the tea tin like it matters. Like this ritual might hold something together that’s trying to come apart.
I finally look up.
“You knew I was here?”
“Didn’t need to know. Just felt it.”
I wrap my arms tighter around myself.
“You’re bleeding,” he says, nodding toward my forearm.
I glance down. Must’ve scraped it climbing out of the chute. Didn’t notice.
“It’s fine.”
He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t fuss. Just finishes steeping the leaves and slides one of the chipped mugs across the floor toward me.
The porcelain is warm when I pick it up, and for a second that’s the only thing I can feel—heat in my hands, something real, something that won’t vanish.
He sits down opposite me, legs crossed, one hand wrapped around his own mug. His claws tap quietly against the ceramic.
“It’s not over yet,” he says.
