Moon swipes the key card, and the door unlocks with a soft, electronic click. The sound is small, insignificant, but it feels like something sliding into place—something I can't undo.
He pushes it open and steps inside without looking back.
I follow, still wrapped in the heavy silence that has hung between us. The door closes behind me with a quiet thud, and I step into the penthouse.
And stop.
The room stretches before me, vast and open, but it's not the size that steals my breath. It's the darkness. Not an empty darkness—a living one.
Candles flicker everywhere, their flames dancing in the still air, casting warm golden light across every surface. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. They line the windowsills, cluster on side tables, float in glass bowls on the coffee table.
The floor-to-ceiling glass wall overlooking the city, a dinner table is set for two. White linen. Shining silverware. A centerpiece of fresh flowers.
