In the kitchen, her cat, Sultan, meowed for his dinner. She poured kibble into his bowl with steady hands, then sat on the floor beside him, her back against the refrigerator.
Tonight, she had walked home alone. And tomorrow night, she would do it again. Not because she was brave. Not because the streets were safe. But because the darkness did not own the night. She did. a girl walks home alone at night
He blinked, thrown off. “I just… I need to know.” In the kitchen, her cat, Sultan, meowed for his dinner
He was close enough now that she could smell cheap cologne and something sharper—nervous sweat. He wasn't a professional. Professionals were silent, invisible. This one was a coward dressed in a predator’s clothes. In the kitchen