The house settles around me with its usual creaks and groans—the old pipes, the wind rattling a loose window frame somewhere downstairs. Sounds I’ve memorized over the years. Sounds that usually mean home.

Tonight, they just sound hollow.

I’m still in the bathroom doorway. Toji’s hands are still on me—one pressed flat against my back, the other tangled carefully in the hair I haven’t lost yet, like he’s afraid to let go. Like if he does, I’ll disappear.