I don't know what to do. The second their car turns the corner and disappears, the weight crashes into me. Like a dam breaking. Like air rushing out of a room I didn't know was pressurized.
My breath becomes short and choppy. My chest tightens. I curl into myself on the bench, one hand pressing to my ribs like I can hold myself together, like I can stop whatever's collapsing inside me.
But I can't.
Tears spill out again—furious, confused, helpless.
I can't call Elliot. I promised to call him, but he's grieving. His heart is already buried beside his father. I can't ask him to carry me, too.
I can't call Julia. She's finally breathing again after days of fear. Her mom is out of ICU. She deserves a moment of peace.
And Felix? Theo? After last night, after everything I've left unsaid, everything that hangs in the air like thunder before a storm—I can't. Not now. Not like this.
So I cry. Alone. Like always.
