Helena's POV
The rich aroma of coffee drifts through the air before I hear the key turning in the lock. My hands are clenched tight against my thighs, fingernails digging deep enough to leave marks that Aria will need time to mend. I have been perched on the mattress edge for what seems like an eternity, fixated on one particular section of the wall. That spot has shifted and blurred until it resembles nothing more than a smudged gray shadow.
This cramped studio apartment feels more suffocating with each passing hour. The space seems to shrink around me, pressing closer with every breath. Even the thin beam of sunlight filtering through the window blinds appears dull and lifeless, as if it has surrendered to the same hopelessness consuming me.
Asher pushes through the doorway first. His tone carries forced cheerfulness that rings hollow in the stale air. "Morning, Lena. Brought you some food."
