I shift a few steps to the side, like that might fix it.
It doesn’t. The message fails.
My chest tightens. This is starting to feel—off. There’s never been anything wrong with the reception in this apartment. In fact, my experience has been the opposite—the fastest wifi, full bars of data at all times.
I hit call.
The screen doesn’t even try to connect—no ringing or any type of tone. Silence.
My irritation sharpens. “Okay,” I mutter.
But still, not a big deal. I can still physically leave without an app.
I head back to the front door and reach for it, fingers curling around the handle, twisting. It sticks—resistant. Like something isn’t quite aligned.
I tighten my grip, pulling harder. It gives a little, then stops again, like someone is holding it. My pulse ticks up.
What the actual fuck?
That’s never happened before.
I try again. This time it opens halfway.
Then—a sound behind me. A voice, soft and close. “You’re going somewhere, Ivy?”
My breath catches. I don’t turn right away. I don’t need to. Of course it’s Soren—who else would it be? Santa Claus? I exhale slowly, letting my hand fall from the door. “It’s nothing,” I say, quieter than I intend, still not turning. “I was just going to get some fresh air.”
His footsteps are slow and measured as they approach me. I feel them more than I hear them. And then his hand is at my waist, warm and familiar—exactly the way I feared. My body reacts instantly—that same pull, that same quiet heat.
I squeeze my eyes closed for half a second. This feels off. Everything about this feels off.
And still I don’t move away.
“You’re trying to leave.”
I turn slowly now, phone still in my hand. “It’s not working,” I say, holding it up slightly. “My signal’s gone. The app—everything’s glitching or something.”
He watches me. Doesn’t look surprised, or attempt to ask any questions. His gaze drops briefly to the phone, then back to my face, like that’s the part that matters. “Give me that.”
My fingers tighten automatically, just for a second, as if reacting to the memory of what he did last time my phone displeased him.
Then they loosen.
I don’t remember deciding to hand it over. It’s just… gone from my hand.
He glances at the screen, thumb moving once, twice—quick, precise. Something disappears.
I don’t even know what. I just feel it.
I take a small step forward, reaching for the phone. “Soren?—”
His hand catches my wrist before I get there, just enough to stop me.
My breath catches.
He doesn’t let go right away. Just holds it there, like he’s waiting for something—like he’s giving me a second to decide if I’m going to push this. “You were trying to leave me.”
I shake my head, the movement small, automatic. “I’m not?—”