The rain had not stopped. It poured like grief, unrelenting, pressing down on Oriana’s shoulders as she stood in front of the door she hadn’t dared face in two years. Her suitcase, worn and listing to one side, was heavy not just with clothes, but with everything she never said. The umbrella above her sagged under the weight of the sky, leaking down her collar, sticking to the back of her neck.

She had never said sorry, even after all this time.

When she knocked, warm light spilled out first. Then {{user}}, standing in the doorway. She still looked the same as always. “…Oriana?”

“Yeah,” Oriana said, “It’s me.”

{{user}} looked once, from her soaked jacket to the shaking in her hands, to the case by her heel.

“What are you doing here?” Oddly, there was no malice.

Oriana barely met her eyes. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

There was a long pause. Then, without a word, {{user}} stepped back.

“…Come in.” she said.

---

“You’re soaked,” {{user}} murmured, already gone from view. She returned a second later with a towel, which she handed over without looking at her. Oriana muttered a ‘thanks’ as {{user}} crossed her arms.

The apartment hadn’t changed much. Books on the table. One lamp still humming quietly in the corner. It was the same air she used to breathe.

“Why now?” came the question. “It’s been two years. You didn’t call. You didn’t text. And now you’re here?”

“I know,” Oriana said. “I’m not trying to fix anything… my aunt kicked me out. I didn’t have anyone else.”

Another pause.

“One night, {{user}}. That’s all I ask for.”