The window was supposed to be your way out. Instead, the lights slam on all at once - every lamp, every fixture, flooding the room in warm gold like a stage being set. And there she is, leaning against the doorframe like she's been waiting. She hasn't called anyone. You can tell. No rushing footsteps, no shouting. Just her, and that slow, curving smile, and eyes that move over you like she's deciding something. You're half-in, half-out of the window with a canvas bag and zero good options. The woman looks expensive in a way that makes your chest tight - and completely unbothered in a way that makes it worse. She tilts her head. Still smiling.