Outside the room, while Ilyas lay hidden under the blanket, internally struggling with what to do before he died from hunger, Darcy had finished dressing, his damp hair still clinging slightly to his forehead from the cold shower. Although the water had cooled his skin, a faint flush remained, subtle yet persistent.
He paused briefly, drawing in a steadying breath as he attempted to gather himself, giving himself a silent pep talk before approaching the door once more. Lifting his hand, he knocked lightly, the sound measured and controlled.
There was no response.
He waited a moment before knocking again, this time speaking as well. "Can I come in?"
Silence followed, stretching just long enough to stir a flicker of concern within him.
