A sharp knock cut through the quiet.
Iyisha's eyes fluttered open slowly, lashes heavy, her body still thick with sleep and the lingering ache of the night before. For a moment she did not move. The room felt too warm, too still.
Then the knock came again.
Her heart kicked.
Someone is at the door.
She pushed herself up, the sheet sliding from her skin, and her muscles protested with a dull heaviness that made her grit her teeth. Malcolm was not beside her.
The other side of the bed was empty.
"Wait," she called out, voice rough from sleep as she reached for the clean clothes folded on the small table. She pulled them on quickly, fingers fumbling at the buttons, pulse quickening with each second of silence from outside.
Another knock.
"I'm coming."
She opened the door.
Marybeth stood there.
"Morning," Iyisha said softly.
Marybeth nodded once, distracted, eyes unfocused like her mind was somewhere else entirely.
"Can we talk?" she asked.
