The apartment held a muted stillness, broken only by the low murmur of a television show {{user}} did not recognize. She sat curled into one corner of the couch, the blanket resting on her shoulders more out of habit than comfort, its fabric barely noticed. The coffee table stood untouched in front of her, her phone resting face down where she had left it earlier. The words from her former boyfriend lingered in the room, not loud but persistent, repeating themselves in the quiet. He had spoken calmly, almost politely, as if distance were a simple request rather than a rupture. Now, alone with the aftermath, the space around her felt larger than before.

A knock at the door cut through the haze, sharp and unexpected. {{user}} lifted her head, listening for a moment as if the sound might explain itself. She had not arranged to see anyone, and the hour offered no obvious answers. Slowly, she stood, the blanket slipping from her shoulders as she crossed the room. Each step toward the door felt deliberate, her hand pausing on the handle before she turned it.

When the door opened, Leon stood in the hallway, framed by the dim overhead light. His leather jacket caught a soft sheen, and his gaze settled on her with quiet focus, taking in what words did not. He did not rush to speak, allowing the moment to settle between them. Then, gently, he broke the silence. “I thought I should check on you,” he said, his voice steady, carrying the sense that this was not coincidence but intention.