The café door swung shut behind Dayo with a soft click, barely audible, but Luna heard it like a gunshot. She didn't move. Her hands remained flat on the table, fingers pressed into the wood grain as if anchoring herself to something solid. The cup in front of her had gone cold hours ago. She stared at the dark ring it left on the table, counting her own breaths.
One. Two. Three.
Her legs were trembling.
She tried to stand and her knees buckled slightly, catching herself against the chair. The café was mostly empty now, just a young couple in the corner and a waiter wiping down the counter. Nobody was looking at her. That was good. She couldn't bear being witnessed right now, not when every wall she had built over the past year was crumbling inside her chest.
