The ramen tastes like cardboard.

Lukewarm, half-dissolved seasoning, the noodles sagging in the broth like something drowned. You take another bite anyway, because eating is a thing people do, and you’re trying—really trying—to be a person again.

The apartment is dim, just the glow of the TV flickering off the peeling wallpaper. A rerun of some cooking show hums in the background, a woman laughing over the sound of sizzling meat. You stare at your food, stomach twisting, fingers trembling against the cheap plastic bowl.

Your hands are always shaking now.

The doctor says it’s the trauma. That your body is still expecting things that aren’t coming—blows, commands, the weight of another presence in the room.

You push the ramen away, appetite gone, when the TV flickers. The cooking show cuts off—harsh, sudden—replaced by the deep voice of a news anchor.

“Breaking news—convicted felon Kaede Nakamura has escaped from state custody—”

Everything stops.

The air leaves the room.

Your pulse pounds, stomach twisting so hard you think you might be sick. The world tilts, tilts, tilts—

No. No, no, no, no—

The spoon slips from your fingers, clattering against the counter.

Your ears are ringing.

“Nakamura, who was serving a life sentence for multiple counts of—”

You’re already on your feet. Already locking the windows, already checking the door, already panicking.

And then—

Bang.

You freeze.

Everything inside you shrieks.

Then—

A voice.

Soft. Almost amused.

“You still live like a slob,” Kaede murmurs through the door. “Didn’t I teach you anything?”

Bang.

Bang.

BANG.

“Open the door, baby.”