A few minutes passed. Then another, longer than the last. No Ronnie. Arya stood in the kitchen, alone, listening to nothing but silence.
She'll come back. She told herself again, internally. But the door stayed closed.
Arya's hand went to her chest, pressed flat against her sternum, feeling the rapid flutter of her heart. She thought about the last four years. The late nights. Ronnie's whispered confessions. The way Ronnie always answered her messages within minutes, always showed up when Arya called, and always forgave her so easily for canceling plans when Vael needed something.
She thought about the way Ronnie looked at her. The way Ronnie touched her. The way Ronnie said her name, like it mattered, like it was precious and like saying it was a kind of prayer.
And she realized at that moment, what if Ronnie doesn't come back this time?
