They exchange a look I’ve seen before. One I don’t want to decode right now.
I don’t ask. I don’t care.
“I can’t pretend to be upright another second.” I’m on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry.”
“Let’s get you upstairs.” Her hand presses gently against the small of my back.
I let her lead me.
When we reach my former bedroom, I stop cold in the doorway.
They’ve put it back. Everything.
Same twin bed. Same corkboard, empty but still bleeding pinholes. Same floral curtains I once swore I’d tear down the day I turned eighteen.
It looks like it’s been waiting for me. Like the girl I used to be is still in here, hugging a diary to her chest. Still stupid enough to think she could outrun fate on a one-way ticket.
“We’ll be ready to listen when you’re ready,” my mom says softly.
I nod.
She shuts the door behind her with a gentle click.
I fall face-first into the bed. The sheets smell like dust and detergent and time I’ll never get back.
And then I break.
Not out loud. Just quietly enough that the tears pool in the pillow and the sobs fold in on themselves—small, contained, like they’re afraid of being heard.
They don’t stop. They don’t slow.
They just keep blurring everything until sleep drags me under like an undertow.
Later…
A soft buzztrembles against the mattress.
I roll over, bleary-eyed, and my heart stutters when I see who it is.
Ryder.
For a moment, I’m tempted to open it—to see what he could possibly have to say. But our last argument still rubs my heart raw in all the wrong places, and I can’t trust that voice anymore. Not when it’s cost me this much.
I hit ignore and set the phone face-down on the nightstand.
It rings again.
Him. Again.
It keeps ringing. Again. And again. Until silence finally settles.
I flip the phone over and open my inbox.
Ryder…
Please leave me alone.
I promise to do the same for you.
