Six days later, he knocks on her door and is met with silence.
Deafening silence.
"Miko?"
His pulse picking up, he knocks again, looking over his shoulder to check if her car is in the driveway. It is, and the muscles in his arms tense unpleasantly as he raises a fist and pounds harder. "Miko."
Seconds before he breaks the door down, a faint shuffle echoes within followed by soft sniffles, and he breathes a sigh of relief just as the sound of the lock unlatching grates over his hearing.
The door opens, and all he sees is watery blue.