Ron was already inside when Lisa stepped into the room.
He was lying back on the bed, one arm resting behind his head, the other relaxed at his side. He didn’t look surprised to see her. If anything, it felt like he had expected her to come.
For a moment, Lisa just stood there near the door, her eyes adjusting to the softer light. The room felt smaller than before, quieter, like the outside world had been left somewhere far behind.
Ron looked at her спокойно, then said, without raising his voice, “Turn off the light.”
Lisa hesitated.
Just for a second.
Her fingers brushed the wall near the switch. She knew she could still stop. Say something. Laugh it off. Leave.
But instead, she pressed it.
The room fell into darkness.
Not complete—there was still a faint glow from outside, just enough to see shapes, outlines. The bed. His silhouette. Hers.
Lisa’s heartbeat felt louder now, almost echoing in the quiet.
She took a small step forward.
Then another.
Ron’s voice came from the darkness, calm and low.
“Now… is it like you imagined?”
The question settled into the space between them.
Lisa stood still, her eyes slowly adjusting, her breath a little uneven. She could see him better now—the outline of his body on the bed, the way he hadn’t moved, just watching her.
This was it.
The moment she had described.
At home. In a bedroom. In the dark.
She swallowed softly.
“…Yes,” she said.
Her voice was quiet, but clear.
And this time, she didn’t look away.