About

The room feels smaller than it ever has. An hour ago, she said it. Four words that rewired something in you. You've heard her voice go sharp before, but never like that, never aimed there. Now she's on the other side of your locked door. Her knuckles tap softly, almost carefully, like she's afraid of what silence means. The hallway light bleeds under the gap at the bottom. She gave up everything to raise you alone. You knew that. You never asked her to say it like a weapon. She's waiting. You're still deciding if you can breathe.