Thank God. She came.
It was midnight.
I had been staring at the clock like it owed me answers, my eyes twitching every time the minute hand clicked forward. Twenty-two minutes past midnight… then forty… then an hour. I didn't eat the food they brought me that evening. I couldn't. The tray sat on the side table, untouched rice cold, soup untouched, fruit drying up. My appetite had died the second the news aired.
I was pacing by the window, wrapped in a blanket like it could shield me from the truth: I was wanted. A criminal. A fugitive hiding under Han's roof.
Every creak in the hallway made my heart punch my ribs. Every shadow outside the window looked like a SWAT truck rolling in. I told myself if she didn't come by 1 a.m., I'd stop waiting.
But then… the door eased open.
And there she was dressed like one of the night janitors, cap pulled low, loose blue overalls hiding her figure, and gloves on her hands. She shut the door behind her quickly and turned the lock.
