"Y/N," I called out, my voice trembling with emotion. "Y/N," I called again, my tone more urgent. There was no response. "Y/N," I repeated, knocking persistently. The silence continued, as cold and unyielding as the wooden door in front of me. I had enough of staying in the dark, under the shadow of my own anger and pain. I couldn't be silent anymore, not when it came to Y/N. I kept knocking, hoping for any sign that she was listening.

But the door remained closed, and Y/N did not respond.