That night, he let Bella follow him to the staff lot. When he opened the door to his apartment, she hesitated at the threshold, ears twitching. Ethan lingered too, keys cold in his hand, before stepping aside. “Come on, then,” he said softly. Bella trotted inside, circled twice near the radiator, and folded herself onto an old towel he laid down.
The room felt different with her there—less echoing, more alive. As he drifted toward sleep, Ethan could hear her breathing, steady and calm. Somewhere across the city, sirens wailed and died, but inside his apartment the air was quiet, threaded with warmth. He couldn’t have explained why, but he knew with absolute certainty: Bella had arrived for a reason.