138. Meeting again.

The corridor leading to Room 407 was too quiet.

Isaac's boots echoed across the waxed floor like gunshots, each step unnervingly loud in the stillness. The fluorescent lights flickered just once, the kind of imperfection that wouldn't have bothered him any other day. But now, it made everything feel a little less real. Like a dream. Like a lie.

The number 407 loomed just ahead.

He stopped.

His hand reached out halfway and hovered in the air, trembling. The cool metal of the door handle waited. Silent. Unmoving.

What if this isn't real?What if Diana was wrong? What if I open that door and it's not him—just an empty bed or a stranger or another cruel trick?What if I'm not ready to face him?

He lowered his hand, clenched his jaw.

Lucas.The name echoed inside him like a wound reopening.