River stirred on the couch, the faint noise of something shifting in the kitchen, waking him up from a shallow sleep. He blinked himself upright, rubbed his face, and after a moment's hesitation, pushed himself up. 

The kitchen light was on. Ina stood at the stove, shoulders trembling so faintly he wouldn't have noticed if he weren't watching so closely.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked gently. 

She did not respond. He called her name a little louder this time. "Ina?"

"What? Yeah, sorry," she jolted, snapping out of her thoughts, like she had been shaken awake.

"I asked if you couldn't sleep," he continued, leaning on the doorway. 

"Oh." She looked at the kettle like she couldn't remember turning it on. "I thought I'd make some tea."

She reached to switch off the kettle, but her hand trembled; she clipped the base instead. The kettle slipped, clattering to the floor as boiling water splashed across the tiles. She froze her eyes wide and her breath caught.

River moved instantly. "Be careful, step aside now," he said, guiding her away from the spill. She didn't move until he physically nudged her aside, and even then, she just stood there, staring at him while he crouched down to clean up the mess. 

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

The apartment had begun to feel unfamiliar. Not because anything had changed; the furniture sat where it always had, the lights hummed the same way, but because the silence had started to stretch in ways none of them could fill. And Ina had become part of that silence. It wasn't like this always. At first, everything seemed fine. But subtly, steadily, she pulled herself inward, shrinking into a quiet shape of guilt and exhaustion. 

She barely slept. Barely ate. Barely spoke.

She drifted through the rooms like someone walking through fog, her gaze unfocused, her footsteps soft, her breath shallow. Sometimes River would find her standing alone in the kitchen long after midnight, staring blankly at the kettle as if waiting for it to explain something she had forgotten. Sometimes she sat at the kitchen counter with untouched tea, staring at nothing while Jane tried and failed to draw her into conversation. Other times, she paced the hallway at 3 a.m., hands shaking, whispering apologies to no one.

Jane tried to laugh, to lighten things, to get her to eat at least a spoonful of rice. River made sure she slept, or tried to, gently knocking on her door at two or three in the morning. But Ina had begun to fold inward. At first, River assumed it was grief. By the end of the week, he wasn't sure. 

— — 

That day, the weather matched the mood; heavy, dark clouds loomed in the sky, blocking what little sunlight tried to break through. Ina sat by the window with a cigarette in between her lips and an ashtray on the sill as the smoke drifted lazily into the open air. 

Across the room, Jane slumped onto the couch, defeated after her tenth failed attempt to get Ina to eat. She kept stealing worried glances at her, watching her burn through cigarettes like they were the only thing keeping her upright. Silence settled between them, the kind that made every half-formed word die before it could leave Jane's mouth. She opened and closed it a few times, unsure what to say. The stillness of the room held until it was broken by the phone on the table, making Jane look down.

"Ina, it's for you," she said, looking at her. Ina didn't look away from the window. 

After a pause, she let out a sigh, "Who is it?"

"I'm not sure, it's a number," she replied, glancing at the caller ID.

"Leave it, I will take it later," Jane nodded. The phone went silent after ringing for a few more seconds. But as soon as the sound faded, it started again.

Jane glanced at Ina. "It's the same number. You should probably take it; it might be important." No reply. The phone rang a third time as Ina finally looked away from the window, vaguely annoyed. She pointed at it, "Please take the message for me."

Jane hesitated for a moment before picking up the phone.

"...Yes?"

"She isn't available at the moment, but I can take a message."

"...What?"

"...May I know what this is about?"

"Alright, I will inform her." Jane placed the phone back on the table. She looked at Ina and hesitated for a few moments before slowly making her way towards her.

"What is it?" Ina asked, putting out the cigarette as she saw Jane approach.

"Ina...," Jane sighed. "That was the detective's assistant. They have a few more questions to ask, so they want you back at the station." 

This made Ina go still. "W—What for? I already gave my statement." 

"They said it's just a routine follow-up." 

"But why?" she snapped, making Jane flinch. She gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sure it's nothing. They might just need to confirm some things," Jane tried to console her. Ina swatted her hand away. She started pacing around the room in heavy strides, biting the tip of her fingers.

"Ina, please calm down. River will be here soon." Ina didn't reply as she continued walking up and down. 

——

When River entered the house, the atmosphere felt tense. He slipped his shoe and shrugged off his coat, making his way to the living room when Jane pulled him aside. She explained the situation to him, making River let out a long, exhausted sigh. He weaved his hand through his hair, "I will talk to her."

When he opened the bedroom door, he was greeted with the smell of cigarettes wafting through the air, making him cough a few times. Ina was sitting against the headboard, staring at the opposite wall. River sat at the edge of the bed.

"Ina," he called softly.

"I don't want to talk to anyone, River," she whispered, voice frayed.

"I know." His voice softened. "But you have to go in. It's just questions. We'll answer whatever they ask and come home." She didn't reply as she continued staring blankly at the wall.

He tried again, gentler. "I will come with you tomorrow, yeah?"

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁