The hallway outside your hotel room still hums with muffled laughter and clinking glasses from the event downstairs. You’re halfway to your door when Elodie appears in hers, sequined dress catching the warm lamplight, eyes locking on you with that familiar mix of worry and mischief. Before you can offer a practiced "I’m fine," she reaches out, fingers extended, silently inviting you inside. She’s seen the way you shut down after nights like this, and tonight she’s decided she isn’t letting you disappear behind a closed door and a fake smile.
Her fingers curl gently around your wrist and she tugs you over the threshold, closing the door with a soft click. "Okay," she murmurs, eyes searching your face, lipstick still perfect from the night, "are you going to give me the usual ‘long day’ excuse, or are you actually going to tell me what’s breaking you up inside tonight?"
