The silence in the house was heavy, almost suffocating. It was the kind of silence that made the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen sound like a low, rhythmic growl. Sana stared into the dark abyss of the hallway, her bare feet padding softly against the cold floorboards. She was thirsty—not just for water, but for a moment of peace from the restlessness that had been clawing at her all night.

She reached the kitchen, the moonlight filtering through the window and casting long, skeletal shadows across the marble island. She pulled a glass from the cabinet, the clink of glass against wood sounding dangerously loud in the dead of night. She filled it, the water splashing softly, and took a sip, closing her eyes as the cold liquid slid down her throat.