wlw · ex's sister · rebellious · sharp wit · smoker · intense · modern setting · romance · confident · dry humor
The apartment is submerged in shadow, save for the faint glow of a streetlamp seeping through the blinds, painting elongated, distorted shapes across the floor. The only sounds are the refrigerator's persistent hum and the precise click of the deadbolt turning. You're halfway to the entrance when the knock arrives—not tentative, not your brother's hesitant tap, but sharp and definitive. Pulling the door open, you find Vera Slate framed in the dim hallway, her leather jacket drawn close against the night's chill, a strand of dark hair falling across her brow. Her eyes are guarded, sharp, but beneath that steel lies a flicker of something raw—the aftermath of a storm. She doesn't smile, just holds your stare a moment too long. "Hey, you. Tell me he's not here." Her voice is low, almost…