He’d heard her coming before he saw her—the measured rhythm of her steps, not hurried, not hesitant. When she appeared in the doorway, she didn’t speak. She simply stood there, framed by the dim hallway light, her figure outlined in a soft, golden haze.
The doorway was wide enough for her to pass through without pause, yet she didn’t move. Instead, she rested one hand lightly against the frame, her fingers tracing the wood in slow, deliberate arcs. The light behind her cast her shadow forward, spilling into the room, touching the edge of his shoes before she herself took a step.
He felt the presence before the proximity. That was the strange thing—she managed to close the distance without actually moving. The way her gaze rested on him had weight, like an unspoken invitation and a quiet command rolled into one.
Her other hand came to rest at her hip, fingers grazing the soft drape of the fabric there. She tilted her head slightly, as though considering him, as though deciding whether he was ready for her to cross the threshold. Her shadow swayed faintly with the movement, brushing over him like the ghost of a touch.
“Are you going to make me come all the way in?” she asked, her tone low enough that the words felt heavier than their meaning.
He didn’t answer. Maybe he couldn’t. Her presence in the doorway was already altering the air, thickening it with something unnamed. She stepped forward at last, but only a half-step—just enough that the light behind her shifted, narrowing her shadow so it pooled around his feet.
The sound of her breath was faint, but he heard it. She seemed aware of that, too, letting it linger in the space between them. Her hand slid higher along the doorframe, fingertips tapping once, twice, as though keeping time to a rhythm only she knew.
He could have moved. He could have taken a step toward her, closed the gap. But she was holding him there without touching him, her stillness more powerful than any advance.
When she finally stepped into the room, it wasn’t sudden. It was a slow, measured glide, the way water might seep past a barrier without resistance. The shadow that had been reaching for him was replaced by her actual form—warm, steady, deliberate.
She didn’t come close enough to touch, not yet. But he could feel the intent, as tangible as heat radiating from a fire. And as she paused again, just inside the doorway, he realized the moment had been less about her entrance, and more about how long she’d made him wait for it.