I've climbed mountains. Fought men twice my size and walked away standing.
Four flights of stairs nearly kills me.
By the third, I'm counting each step like a prayer. By the fourth, I'm not sure I'm going to make it.
But I do.
Her door is at the end of the hall. 4B. I've memorized the number. Dreamed about it. Imagined knocking a thousand times.
I never did.
Until now.
I lean against the doorframe. Raise my fist. Knock.
The sound is weak. Pathetic. I try again, harder.
Footsteps inside. Light, careful. She's checking the peephole. Of course she is. She's smart.
"Who is it?"
Her voice.
Christ.
Her voice cuts through the fog like a blade. Clear and sharp and real. I close my eyes. Let it wash over me.
Two years. Two miserable fucking years of watching her from the shadows, and her voice still does this to me.
I should leave.
I should turn around, go back down those stairs, call the number, do the smart thing. She told me to stay away. She meant it. And here I am, bleeding on her doorstep like some wounded animal crawling home to die.
This isn't fair to her.
I push off the doorframe. Take a step back.
"Dante."
The word comes out before I can stop it. My name. Just my name. But it's enough.
Silence.
Long. Heavy. The kind of silence that stretches into forever.
I wait for her to tell me to leave. Wait for the sound of her footsteps walking away. Wait for the rejection I deserve.
Instead, I hear the locks.
One. Two. Three.
The door opens.
And there she is.
Marina Reeves.
She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
