Chapter Five

Elena’s POV

The decision arrived without ceremony, somewhere between the residual ache of the laundry room and the quiet certainty that distance had become its own form of surrender.

I stopped altering my routes. Stopped timing my exits to avoid the possibility of him in the corridor. The careful management of space had only sharpened the tension; every successful avoidance left a sharper edge of frustration behind. When the knock finally came at my door late, deliberate, three measured raps I opened it without checking the peephole.

Roman stood in the hallway holding a small packet of replacement washers for the earlier leak, a thin excuse that neither...