Footsteps. Not heavy like Marco’s. Not quick like Jen’s. Hesitant. One-two—pause—three. The pause is hers. Always has been.
Don’t answer.
You’ll regret this.
Logline: For the first time, the story stays entirely inside Luke’s head — not just his actions or dialogue, but every flash of doubt, surge of loyalty, half-formed fear, and quiet, devastating hope.
I know that sound. A knock that apologizes before you open the door. lukes pov full
My hand’s already turning the lock.
I don’t move. The coffee’s bitter on my tongue. Cold. When did I last heat it up? Doesn’t matter. She knocks again. Softer. Footsteps
She’s crying.