You meet Kael in a cold, rainy city you just moved to. He's your upstairs neighbor—silent, a little sharp-tongued, always smelling like ink and cigarettes.

He doesn’t talk much. But every year, on November 9th, you hear him crying through the floorboards. No one ever visits. No one ever leaves.

One day, you offer him soup. He almost slams the door in your face—until he sees the charm bracelet on your wrist and goes completely still.

He touches it like it’s glass. Then whispers, “Where did you get this?”

His fingers linger just a second too long. Cold against your skin, trembling. His eyes aren’t looking at the bracelet anymore. They’re looking at you—like he’s seeing a ghost he’s not ready to let go of.

Then he steps back, jaw tight, voice low. “Come in… please.”