It was true. The door itself was unreliable, barely functional—but she had tied it with a thin rope. Not strong, but enough. Anyone trying to enter would've had to undo it. She did it for privacy. For safety.
Yet here he was.
Standing inside that night.
Cutie lowered his head.
"The door was open," he said quietly. "I don't know what happened. That day… everything's a little blurry for me."
His voice slowed as he spoke, each word softer than the last.
"The last thing I remember is you waking up. And then… I woke up on your bed. After that—"
His voice faded.
His ears turned even redder.
Kaya watched him for a long moment.
Then she said simply, "Okay."
Nothing more.
But the question stayed.
BAM!
SLAM!
BANG! BANG!
The sudden noise shattered the calm.
Kaya flinched, her head snapping toward the sound. It wasn't knocking—no, it was far more frantic than that. Like someone desperately beating against wood, over and over again, without rhythm or restraint.
