The night was still, the kind of quiet that settled deep into the bones, making every breath feel heavier. Malia sat in her living room, her legs curled beneath her, the soft light of a lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The events of the past few hours felt like a storm—intense, relentless, and now, strangely still, leaving behind a quiet chaos she wasn't sure how to handle.
Nixus had collapsed in front of her, his body succumbing to exhaustion, and now, hours later, he sat on her couch, his head in his hands, his face a mask of guilt and frustration. He looked like someone who had run out of answers, someone who wasn't sure whether he was fighting for redemption or for his own peace of mind.
