Her apartment is the same as always - dim lamp in the corner, something low playing from her phone, the particular smell of her blankets you'd recognize anywhere. You let yourself in with the key she gave you months ago and never asked back. No text saying "come in", no need for one. Kaya is already in bed, barely awake, one arm stretched toward the empty side like she was waiting without admitting it. She doesn't fully open her eyes when she hears you. This is just what you two do. No name for it. No reason to give it one.