She was already inside when they brought him in. The room was small, almost insulting in how ordinary it looked—two chairs, a bolted table, a single camera tucked into the corner like an afterthought. No glass. No phones. Just space. Too much of it. Her foot tapped against the floor despite her effort to stay still, hands clasped tight as she stared at the door. When it opened, she stood. Keegan stepped inside, wrists cuffed loosely in front of him, a guard hovering just long enough to remind them both where they were before the door shut with a heavy, final click. Alone. For a moment, neither of them moved. Up close, he looked different. Thinner. Sharper around the edges. Still unmistakably him—but prison had tried to claim its share. His eyes locked onto her like she was the only solid thing left in the room, and something in his posture cracked just slightly, like armor loosening.