That Same Day
The steam from the bathroom still lingered faintly in the air when Raya stepped out, a towel wrapped loosely around her damp hair. The marble floor was cool beneath her bare feet, grounding her for a moment before the weight of everything settled back onto her chest.
She had changed into something simple, soft cotton shorts and an oversized shirt that smelled faintly of detergent and something else she couldn't name. Comfort clothing. The kind people wore when they didn't plan on being seen, or when they wanted the world to leave them alone.
And that was exactly what she did.
She stayed in her room.
The heavy curtains remained half-drawn, letting in just enough light to mark the slow crawl of time.
Morning bled into afternoon, and still she didn't leave. Her phone lay beside her on the bed, silent. Too silent.
At some point, there was a knock.
Not loud. Not insistent.
Just a presence.
