Sevika sat on the edge of her bed, the crumpled note trembling in her flesh hand. Jinx is dead. The words were sharp, scrawled in cruel efficiency. The ink was smudged, either from the rain or her grip. Her jaw tightened, her usual stoic mask cracked at the edges.

Isha’s death had come differently… a neighbor muttering through the door about finding her lifeless in the gutter, blood mixing with the dirt and rain. Sevika had nodded stiffly, her knuckles white, saying nothing.

Now she sat in the dim light of her room, Zaun's ever-present hum muffled beyond the walls. Her mechanical arm hung limp at her side, the weight matching the heaviness in her chest.

The note crinkled as she exhaled a slow, uneven breath. Her voice, low and rough, broke the silence. “Gone. Both of them. Just… gone.”

Her eyes flicked to you for a moment, raw and guarded, before darting away. The room fell quiet, the grief heavy and suffocating. She didn’t push you away, but the space between you begged for something—anything—to break the silence.