It was ten o'clock when Trisha finally freshened up and was ready to go to bed. Just as she was about to settle in, a knock echoed through the cottage. Curious and slightly wary, she walked to the door and opened it.
There stood Dashiell, casually leaning against the door frame, his dark eyes catching the light from inside.
Trisha blinked in surprise, her hand still on the doorknob. Dashiell's usual confident demeanor was softened by a look of genuine concern.
"Good evening, Trisha," he said, a smile on his face. "May I come in?"
"Sure," Trisha replied, stepping aside. "What brings you here this late?"
"Trisha," he began, his voice low, "how are you holding up? I heard about the trouble with the electricity and... everything else. I feel like I missed something important."
Trisha hesitated, sensing the sincerity in his words.
