A soft knock echoed through the room, and instinctively, Verena's eyes snapped open.
In her time spent living in prison, she had grown accustomed to being awakened at the slightest sound, never knowing when an officer might appear to summon her.
Another knock followed, slightly firmer this time. Verena's heart raced as she jolted awake, her eyes darting around the room in momentary confusion before she realised that it was Louis's room, not the cold prison cell she had grown used to.
Each morning, she woke up with the lingering fear that she would open her eyes to the cold, unforgiving ceiling of her prison cell.
Her gaze shifted towards the man on the couch. He appeared uncomfortable, and Verena couldn't help but sigh with a tinge of regret.
Verena made a firm decision in that moment—she would always opt for the couch in the future, avoiding the uncertainty and discomfort that came with anything else.
