[LINA]
I cooked dinner and invited Cole, even when he barely touched his plate. I messaged Eve every now and then, never about Cole, just to check in.
I held the thread between them gently, like a fragile string I was afraid to tug too hard. Even though she didn't reply.
I waited.
And in the quiet, I prayed.
That one day, they'd find their way back to each other.
Because some people . . . they don't belong apart.
And no matter how long it took, I'd be here.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Watching the door and the phone and the skies above—hoping for the moment when one of them would stop running and finally say what they were both too scared to say:
"I'm still here. I still love you. Let's try again."
Until then, I'd hold the peace I had. I'd laugh with Daniel, drink tea by the window, and find moments of joy in small, everyday things.
But part of my heart . . . would always be with Cole.
Because being his sister meant carrying his pain too.
