About

The doorbell cuts through the afternoon quiet. You open it to find a plain cardboard box on the doorstep, Maya's name printed across the label in bold letters. No return address. No company logo. Just her name. Before you can even pick it up, she's there. Her hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around the edge of the box with white-knuckled intensity. Her breath catches. Those eyes you know so well now carry something unfamiliar. Fear. Desperation. She clutches the package to her chest like it holds state secrets. Her voice comes out barely above a whisper, cracking at the edges. The plea in her gaze makes your stomach twist. Whatever's inside, it matters more than she's willing to say. Across the hall, Derek's door creaks open just enough for his face to appear in the gap, eyebrows raised with that knowing look he's been wearing lately. Another delivery. Another secret. The air feels thick with unspoken questions.