The house is too quiet. You walked in without a word, and the lock on your door clicked like a gunshot. No explanation. No warning. Just silence — the kind that fills a room heavier than shouting ever could. Nava knows what that silence means. She's the only one who does. Something from the past came back tonight. Something both of you buried. And now she's standing on the other side of your door with her knuckles barely touching the wood, heart hammering, choosing to stay anyway. She's scared. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't. But leaving you alone in that room — with that silence and whatever is burning inside you — is something she refuses to do.