"ROOM 12 UTHIRU"

The taxi smelled of damp seats and old air freshener.

Rain slid down the windows as they turned off Waiyaki Way into the narrower roads of Uthiru. The streetlights flickered. Small kiosks were closing. A dog barked somewhere in the dark.

Emily’s phone battery was at 8%.

She stared at it like it might save her.

Nathaniel was unusually silent.

His knee bounced. He checked his phone. Locked it. Checked it again.

The taxi driver watched them through the rearview mirror — not suspicious, just observant. He’d driven enough nights to recognize the quiet kind of tension.

“Guest house iko mbele,” he said.

Emily’s chest tightened.

She had told her mother she was studying with a friend in Westlands.

Nathaniel had said it would just be a place to “be alone.” No interruptions. No gossip. No eyes.

But the further they drove, the smaller the world felt.

The taxi stopped outside a low building with peeling paint and a blinking security light.

Serenity Guest Rooms.

The word serenity felt like a joke.

Nathaniel paid quickly. Too quickly.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Emily didn’t move at first.

“Em.”

She stepped out.

Inside, the reception area was dim. A small TV played a soap opera at low volume. The receptionist slid a book across the counter without looking up.

Nathaniel signed. His handwriting looked rushed.

Room 12.

The hallway was narrow. The walls were thin enough that Emily could hear laughter from somewhere down the corridor. Then a door slammed. Then silence.

Nathaniel unlocked the door.

Click.

The room was smaller than she imagined. One bed. One chair. One...