The studio felt too quiet after Ray left, as if the air itself was holding its breath. I stood there for a long moment, unable to move, unable to think clearly. The smell of new equipment, the faint undertone of freshly cleaned surfaces, and traces of wood polish hung in the air. Everything was spotless, organized, waiting. Waiting for me.
A space for me.
I didn’t know how to react to that.
No one had ever done something like this for me. Not my family, not friends, not anyone I’d dated. It wasn’t just the money—even though clearly the price of this room was higher than my rent for several years combined. It was the intention behind it. The time. The effort. The thought.
It made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t know how to deal with.
I walked slowly across the room, my fingers brush
