The heavy click of the front door closing echoed through the silent apartment. Then came the soft hum of the elevator arriving, followed by the mechanical groan as it sank away, taking Lyra with it.
Elara stood in the entryway, frozen. She found herself straining her ears, waiting. Maybe the elevator would come back up. Maybe there would be a hesitant knock on the door, or the frantic sound of someone punching in the keypad code because they had changed their mind.
Time ticked by. The silence only grew heavier.
Her neck felt stiff. As she slowly lowered her head, her eyes landed on her own feet. She was still wearing the new shoes—the "gift" Lyra had knelt down to put on her personally. They were stiff and brand new, and now that she was standing still, the leather seemed to pinch her skin. Her feet and ankles throbbed with a dull, unbearable ache.
