(Yvette POV)
The moment the door closed behind me, I felt it.
Not a sound.
Not a movement.
Not anything I could point to and say, there—that's wrong.
Just a shift.
Subtle.
Unwelcome.
Unmistakable.
I stood there for a second longer than I needed to, my hand still resting against the door as if I hadn't fully decided whether I was safe enough to let go of it, and when the quiet of the apartment settled around me, it didn't feel like the quiet I had grown used to.
It felt… heavier.
Like something had followed me in without making a sound.
I exhaled slowly and forced myself to move, slipping off my shoes and placing them neatly by the rack, a routine I had repeated every single day since I moved into this place, a small habit that grounded me in something predictable, something mine.
"You're overthinking," I muttered under my breath, though the words didn't carry the conviction I wanted them to.
I turned the lock.
Once.
Then, after a brief pause, I turned it again.
