Evan gave his name to the guard,  

watched the red light on the control panel turn green,  

and stepped into the elevator.  

The doors slid shut with a soft hiss.  

Now it was just him,  

and the sound of his heartbeat—  

loud, mechanical, echoing through the confined space.  

Each floor number blinked upward,  

each second stretched impossibly long.  

Why did she ask him to come?  

What did she want to say?  

What should he say?  

Expectation.  

Anxiety.  

Fear.  

All swirling together like a storm.  

*Ding.*  

The elevator stopped.  

The doors opened.  

Evan took a deep breath,  

walked down the familiar hallway,  

and stopped in front of her door.  

His hand hovered midair.  

He hesitated.  

Then finally—he knocked.  

Two sharp raps.  

The sound seemed too loud,  

bouncing down the quiet corridor.  

The handle turned.  

The door opened.  

And there she was.  

Sienna stood in the doorway,  

wearing a light sleep dress,  

her hair loosely tied,  

her face bare, untouched by makeup.  

No gloss, no armor—  

just her.  

Her expression calm, unreadable.  

Her eyes steady on him.  

For a moment,  

Evan forgot how to breathe.  

She didn’t say much—  

just stepped aside, letting him in.  

He mumbled a small “thanks”  

and stepped across the threshold.  

The door clicked shut behind them,  

leaving only their breathing  

and the faint hum of the city outside.  

Sienna reached for the switch.  

“I don’t usually turn on the lights,” she said.  

“Too bright. I just keep one lamp on.”  

Her tone was casual, detached.  

Evan nodded, voice low.  

“Yeah… sure.”  

Then the light filled the room—  

and his breath caught.  

On the pale skin beneath her sleeves  

were faint bruises—  

some old, some fresh.  

A dark mark along her arm.  

Another, near her calf, barely visible.  

They stood out against her skin,  

sharp, silent accusations.  

His mind blanked.  

The rush of excitement,  

the nervous anticipation—  

all shattered in an instant.  

He stared, unable to move,  

a tightness clawing at his chest.  

The words rose to his lips—  

“What happened?”—  

but he couldn’t let them out.  

Sienna noticed his gaze.  

She didn’t flinch.  

Didn’t hide.  

Just reached calmly for the thin blanket on the sofa  

and draped it over her legs.  

The gesture was casual,  

but deliberate—  

like covering a truth too familiar to explain.  

“Sit down,” she said softly.  

As if nothing had happened.  

Evan obeyed,  

but every muscle in his body was tense.  

His hands were cold.  

His pulse erratic.  

He sat there,  

trying not to look,  

trying not to ask—  

but the bruises stayed burned into his vision,  

marking the air between them  

with a quiet, unbearable ache.