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.