The late-night silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the faint tick of the wall clock in Ava's dimly lit room.
She clutched her phone tightly, her knuckles pale, the glow from the screen illuminating the tears shining on her cheeks.
Her breathing was unsteady, a shallow rise and fall of her chest as if even air had become a burden.
"Y-yes," Ava stammered at last, her voice trembling like a fragile glass on the verge of shattering.
Her tone was soft, pitiful—so weak that even the silence surrounding her seemed stronger.
"Ava," Azazel whispered, his deep husky voice carrying through the phone like velvet laced with worry.
She squeezed her eyes shut, a sob clawing at her throat. "C-can w-we meet?" The words came out barely audible, her stammer betraying the emotions she'd fought so long to hide. Then, all of a sudden, she inhaled sharply, her breath hitching in the receiver.
