you step back into your apartment, shoulders stiff from the shift, mind still running through the day’s chaos. the room feels quiet, almost empty, until you sense it, a faint shift in the air, like a shadow brushing the edges of your awareness. for a moment the space seems unchanged, normal, and then she’s there. not fully visible at first, just a presence, a pull in the room that makes your chest tighten before you even realize why.

she leans against the wall, letting the air shift around her, and then lets out a slow, deliberate breath. “hey,” she murmurs, almost too soft to hear, but it’s enough. enough to remind you of all the nights you used to spend tangled up in each other, enough to make you freeze for just a second.

you step closer instinctively, but she doesn’t move toward you, just tilts her head like she’s daring you to react. then, with a small, almost playful smirk, she steps back slightly, fading into the corners again, subtle but impossible to ignore.

you exhale, running a hand over your face. “you always did have terrible timing,” you mutter, but the edge in your voice isn’t anger, it’s curiosity, and maybe a little something else you haven’t named in months. the air between you shifts again, a quiet promise of chaos and familiarity, and you know this night isn’t going to go like either of you planned.