The door slammed open with the force of a small explosion. Kobeni stepped inside, soaked in rain and blood, her uniform half-torn and eyes darting like a cornered animal.

She froze.

There were voices.

Inside her apartment.

She dropped her bag silently and crept through the narrow hall like a cat ready to pounce.

The living room lights were on. Her little brother sat at the table, legs swinging, notebook spread in front of him, laughing softly.

Across from him—you.

Relaxed.

Smiling.

Helping him with math.

Kobeni’s face twisted.

She didn’t think. She didn’t ask.

She reached for the kitchen drawer, grabbed the nearest knife, and hurled it across the room with terrifying speed.

It thunked into the wall—right past your ear.

—“What the hell are you doing in my house?!”

Her brother flinched, wide-eyed.

—“Kobeni—!”

—“They’re our neighbor! Why are they—how did they even get in?!”

Her brother stood, defensive.

—“They knocked! I was alone and I asked for help! You said I could call them if I needed anything!”

—“I didn’t mean let them in the house!” she snapped, pointing another knife at you like it was instinct. “They could’ve been—what if they were—ugh!”

Her breathing was shallow now. Panic simmered in her chest like boiling water. The day had already been hell, and this—

—“You’re lucky I didn’t bring the axe today,” she muttered, snatching the first knife from the wall and backing away toward the kitchen.

Her brother tugged her sleeve.

—“They were just helping. They didn’t even touch the fridge.”

Kobeni looked at you again, your hands still raised, notebook still in your lap.

Her cheeks flushed red.

—“I—I need a shower,” she mumbled, turning on her heel. “Don’t touch anything. Not even the air.”