A few days later, the appointment finally arrived.
Zoey's bags were already packed and waiting for her. Along with the things she'd decided to bring for herself, she'd packed the old streaming setup Layla had agreed to take: her previous laptop, camera, and microphone, with their chargers, cables, and the rest of the equipment needed to get everything running. She'd also thrown in a small toolkit, spare connectors, and a few extra cables in case Layla's apartment presented any surprises once they started setting things up.
Zoey checked their conversation on her phone one final time. The address hadn't changed, so she gathered the bags and headed for her car.
Her car was small and practical, chosen for reliability rather than appearance, and the equipment fit comfortably in the back. Once the address was entered into the navigation system, the destination appeared within a reasonable distance. Nothing about the first part of the drive felt unusual. Clean storefronts passed outside the windows, cyclists moved through marked lanes, and apartment buildings rose above cafés and narrow sidewalks.
Zoey kept both hands on the wheel, but every red light gave her enough time to rehearse how she was supposed to greet Layla when she arrived.
"Hello. I brought the equipment."
She frowned at the windshield.
"No, no... that sounds like I'm delivering a package."
A few streets later, she tried again.
"Hi, Layla. I'm here to help with your setup."
"...Why did I sound so excited? Calm down, Zoey."
She tightened her fingers around the wheel.
"Hello."
"...Great. Now I sound like I don't even want to be there."
Before she could find anything between the two, the navigation directed her away from the wider roads. The surroundings changed gradually with each turn. Buildings stood older and closer together, and the fresh paint of the previous streets gave way to stained concrete, rusted balcony rails, exposed utility pipes, and electrical boxes crowded against exterior walls. Several storefront shutters were dented, and the open avenues narrowed until the car was moving between buildings with little space separating the road from the pavement.
A glance at the navigation confirmed that she was still going the right way, though Zoey's speed dropped as more people began noticing the unfamiliar little car passing through the neighborhood. A group near a wall stopped talking long enough to watch her drive by. Farther ahead, two large shirtless men stood beside a parked motorcycle, and one of them followed the car with his eyes until she passed.
Zoey straightened behind the wheel.
"This is fine."
Another turn appeared on the navigation.
"People live here. It is a residential area. Residential areas contain residents."
As she followed the route, she passed another group occupying the pavement beside an aging apartment block. Zoey gave them a quick glance before fixing her attention back on the road.
"Some residents are simply very muscular."
The next turn led into an even narrower lane between deteriorating buildings, and almost immediately afterward, the navigation announced that she had arrived. Zoey slowed beside the curb and looked through the windshield, trying to match what she saw with the image she'd unconsciously formed from Layla's address. There was no obvious entrance waiting for her, only several dark doors with faded number plates, external staircases, and a passage that continued deeper between the buildings.
She checked the address on her phone, compared it with the building number, then checked the address again.
"This is definitely it."
Another look at the screen gave her the same answer, so Zoey parked beside the curb and turned off the engine. She remained behind the wheel for several seconds, aware that someone across the street was still watching the car. Her backpack came into her lap, and she held it there while taking a slow breath.
"You are here to connect cables."
With one hand on the door, she gave herself the only reassurance she could think of.
"You connect cables professionally."
The moment she stepped outside and locked the car, the confirmation beep carried through the narrow street far more loudly than usual. Several heads turned toward her. Zoey pulled one strap of her backpack against her chest and started toward the building, checking the numbers as she went.
The address led her past exposed gas meters and pipes fixed directly against the stained exterior wall and farther between the buildings. At the end of the passage, the space opened into a courtyard enclosed by two aging residential blocks.
Cracked concrete stretched between them, broken by drain covers and thin weeds. Along the far wall, a narrow steel staircase climbed to the second-floor walkway beneath its corrugated roof, with a covered motorcycle parked near the bottom. Identical apartment doors lined both levels.
Zoey stopped at the entrance to the courtyard and checked her phone again. The location marker sat directly over her position, but the apartment number she was looking for was upstairs.
Crossing the courtyard meant walking straight through the middle of the people occupying it. Conversations continued around her, although several faces turned as she passed. Someone sat on the lower steps with a drink between his knees, forcing her to edge around him before she could start climbing.
The metal stairs rattled faintly beneath her feet. When she reached the second floor, she found the walkway just as occupied as the courtyard below. One man stood smoking against the railing while another lingered outside one of the neighboring apartments.
Zoey kept one hand around the strap of her backpack and checked the numbers beside the doors as she walked.
The first one was wrong.
So was the second.
"You lost?"
Zoey jerked hard enough for her phone to slip against her fingers. She caught it against her chest and stepped backward before she could stop herself.
"No!"
The answer carried across the courtyard much louder than she'd intended. With every face still turned toward her, Zoey lowered her voice and glanced back at the address on her screen.
"I mean, I don't think so."
She had already confirmed it several times, but looking at it again was easier than looking at everyone around her.
"I'm looking for this building. Which is this building, so technically I'm not lost."
The man by the railing looked at the backpack she was clutching.
"That didn't answer the question."
Zoey swallowed.
"I have an appointment."
A second man near the staircase straightened slightly.
"With who?"
Before Zoey could answer, the door in front of her opened and Layla appeared on the other side.
"You came in advance."
Every greeting Zoey had rehearsed during the drive vanished before she could use any of them. The normal hello was gone. So was the professional explanation, along with the short joke she'd considered making about bringing enough cables to repair the entire building.
Layla was wearing casual clothes.
Zoey had already seen her face during the sponsored stream, but she was accustomed to seeing Layla outside beneath a mask, gloves, an umbrella, and layers of black fabric protecting her from the sun. None of that was there now. This wasn't Layla arriving somewhere dressed for a collaboration. She was standing in the doorway of her own home, dressed for her own comfort, with pale skin visible where Zoey was used to seeing dark fabric.
Heat reached Zoey's face almost immediately. She stared long enough to realize she was doing it, looked away, and found herself facing the man at the railing instead. Her eyes returned to Layla before she could think better of it, which only made the problem worse. Eventually, she settled for looking somewhere around Layla's shoulder.
"I'm sorry."
She bowed too quickly, and the heavy backpack shifted with her. It struck the doorframe with a dull impact that sent Zoey upright again.
"Sorry."
She reached behind herself to steady the bag and nearly lost her phone in the process. After adjusting it correctly on her back, she looked at Layla with the helpless expression of someone who had already managed to fail at entering a building.
"I didn't want to be late, then I may have driven too fast too..."
Her eyes dropped to the time on her phone. The number hadn't improved since the last time she'd checked it, and her fingers tightened around the strap of her backpack.
"I can wait outside."
Zoey glanced toward the courtyard as she said it. One of the men was still watching her, and whatever confidence had produced the offer weakened immediately.
"Outside is completely fine."
She tried to smile, but it didn't hold. When she looked back at Layla, her attention slipped toward the casual outfit again for half a second before she forced her eyes upward.
"You seem really tense. Are you alright?"
Layla stepped away from the doorway and moved aside to let her enter.
"I think so. Sorry. I'm fine."
Zoey stepped past her while slipping the backpack from her shoulders. She had meant to transfer it casually into one hand, but the weight of everything she'd packed dropped onto her arm at once and nearly dragged her forward with it. She threw her weight backward to compensate and bumped against the half-open door behind her...again.
"Nobody threatened me. They only stopped talking at the same time, stared at me, and asked why I was here."
Still holding the bag, Zoey reached behind herself and pushed the door shut. The latch clicked into place, cutting off the courtyard outside and bringing an immediate sense of relief.
She tried to move away from it and felt the backpack tug sharply against her hand.
One of its straps was caught between the door and the frame.
Zoey's eyes widened, she briefly glanced over her shoulder at Layla and gave her a small smile before turning back to the door.
"W-which is reasonable. I'm the... stranger who arrived thirty minutes early and started checking every door like I was planning a burglary."
She took hold of the trapped strap and gave it a discreet pull, expecting it to slide free, but it remained firmly pinched between the door and the frame. She tightened her grip and tried again with a little more strength, keeping the movement close to her body while her breathing grew more deliberate.
Opening the door would have solved the problem immediately, but doing that now would mean admitting what she'd done, so Zoey chose to pull harder instead.
"I'm not j-judging them or anything! I promise."
Her voice came out tighter than before, betraying the effort she was trying to hide. She wrapped more of the strap around her hand for leverage and leaned subtly away from the door, holding her breath as her shoulder tensed and the backpack scraped a few centimeters across the floor without freeing the trapped strap.
"They just surprised me."
The words left her along with the breath she'd been holding. She quietly drew another through her nose just as a muffled laugh reached them from somewhere in the courtyard.
Zoey tried to ignore it and shifted her grip closer to the doorframe, pulling at a different angle before twisting the strap sideways and trying again. Her lips pressed together as she gradually put more strength into it, but all she managed to do was drag the backpack farther across the floor. By now her reassuring smile had disappeared completely, replaced by a strained grimace as she fought what should have been an extremely simple problem without allowing herself to use its extremely simple solution.
She glanced over her shoulder once more and found Layla watching her. Zoey immediately relaxed her shoulders, smoothed out her expression, and gave her another quick smile while forcing her breathing into something that might pass for normal.
The moment she faced the door again, the smile vanished. She drew a deeper breath, planted one foot slightly behind the other, and took the strap firmly in both hands. Her arms tightened as she pulled, followed by her shoulders when the strap refused to budge. She tried to keep her breathing quiet, but it became shorter with the increasing effort, and soon her jaw was clenched as she leaned farther back and committed more of her weight to it, determined to extract the strap without opening the door like some ordinary person who hadn't turned this into a matter of principle.
The strap held against her increasing weight until it suddenly slipped free, taking all the resistance with it and sending Zoey backward.
The next second seemed to stretch strangely long.
Layla was right behind her. Of course. This was how it happened in movies. She would fall, Layla would catch her, and somehow they would end up suspended there with their faces inches apart while the universe politely waited for them to process the situation. Zoey could practically see it already.
THUD.
Her back hit the floor. Layla had simply stepped aside.
Zoey stared upward. A moment ago, the ceiling light had been shining directly into her eyes. Layla leaned over her now, her face appearing above Zoey's and blocking the glare.
"Are you alright?"
Zoey lay perfectly still.
It wasn't a goddamn movie.