LAURA
The house looks the same when I get back.
Lights on. Curtains drawn. Warm. Ordinary.
Like nothing inside it just cracked open.
I linger on the porch a second longer than I need to, keys cold in my hand, Jae's voice still heavy in my chest.
He didn't fix anything. He didn't try to.
But he didn't disappear either.
That almost makes it worse.
I push the door open quietly.
Grandma sits at the kitchen table, hands folded around a mug she hasn't touched.
Jason leans against the counter, running a hand through his hair like he's been at it for hours.
They both look up. No one speaks.
"I shouldn't have stormed out," I say finally, my voice shaking just a little.
Grandma stands slowly. "Oh, sweetheart."
I shake my head before she can pull me in—not because I don't want it, but because I need to get this out first.
"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to make it feel like you were doing something wrong."
Jason stops fidgeting. Grandma's face softens, but the sadness doesn't fully leave—the kind that lingers.
"We should have told you," she says gently. "You're right about that."
I swallow.
"I just—" I stop, trying to find the words. "It felt like I didn't recognize my own life anymore. Like something huge has been happening under my nose, and I didn't see it."
She nods. "I know."
I sit, the chair scraping softly against the floor. My legs feel heavy, like I've run farther than I meant to.
"I hate the idea of someone paying because they feel guilty," I say. "It makes everything feel… cheap."
Jason exhales sharply, like he's been holding that same sentence in his chest.
"But I also get it," I add quietly. "We need it."
Grandma reaches across the table and takes my hand. Her skin is warm. Solid.
"We never wanted you to feel like we failed you," she says. "We just wanted to keep you safe."
My throat tightens.
"I know," I whisper.
She squeezes my fingers. The air between us settles—quiet. Not fixed. Not resolved.
Grandma stands, brushing invisible crumbs off her hands. "The washing machine's acting up—I'll go check it," she says, moving slowly toward the door.
Her presence lingers even after the door clicks shut.
Jason shifts, leaning slightly closer, like he's unsure how to start.
"So…" he begins, clearing his throat. "That guy who dropped you off earlier—what's the deal? I didn't catch his name."
I bite my lip, tracing the edge of the counter with my fingers. "He's… just a friend," I say carefully. "Nothing more."
Jason blinks. His arms tighten across his chest for a second, then he lets out a soft sigh.
He doesn't push. Doesn't need to.
"Alright," he says quietly. "Just… be careful, okay? Friends or not. Some people aren't worth the heartache."
"I'll be fine," I say softly, though I know he doesn't fully believe me—and honestly, neither do I.
He nods, leaning against the counter, pretending to be casual. But I can see the worry under it—the kind he doesn't voice, the kind that makes me feel… seen.
***
My phone buzzes.
Jae: Awake?
Me: Yeah.
I hesitate, then type:
Me: How are you holding up?
The response comes almost instantly.
Jae: Don't do that.
I frown.
Me: Do what?
Jae: Take care of me.
Me: I wasn't.
A beat.
Jae: I'm not letting you do that tonight.
I stare at the screen.
Me: Why not?
Jae: Because you're not okay.
That stops me.
Me: That doesn't mean I can't worry about you.
Jae: It does tonight.
Short. Final.
Me: … I can't sleep.
Jae: I know you can't.
Not a guess. A statement.
Me: You're good at reading people right?
A few seconds pass.
Jae: 😏 yeah.
I smile at my phone.
Jae: But today cracked something. No one sleeps after days like that.
I roll onto my side, staring at the wall.
Me: I keep replaying everything.
Jae: Don't spiral.
The words come fast.
Me: I'm not.
Jae: You are. Just don't disappear into it tonight.
My fingers curl around the phone.
Me: You sound… wired.
A longer pause.
Jae: I am.
That's all he gives me.
Then—
Jae: Talk to me.
I swallow.
Me: I keep thinking about the accident. About how one moment can just… erase everything. How you never really know who's responsible. Or how much damage one choice can do.
The typing dots appear. Stop. Appear again.
Jae: I know. But that line of thinking won't help you. Trust me.
Something in his words feels tight. Controlled. Like he's holding something back.
Me: You sound like you know that for a fact.
Another pause. Longer this time.
Jae: I know what it's like to live with consequences that don't let go.
Me: Is that why you're always so… intense?
Jae: No.
Then, softer—but heavier:
Jae: That's why I don't let people I care about drown in questions that don't have clean answers.
I press my forehead into the pillow.
Me: I hate not knowing things.
Jae: I know you do.
Me: It makes me feel stupid. Powerless.
Jae: You're neither.
Immediate. Certain.
Jae: Some truths don't set you free. Some of them just break the ground you're standing on.
My heart stutters.
Me: That sounds… bleak.
Jae: It's realistic.
Then firmer, like he's pulling us back from the edge:
Jae: Tonight isn't for that. Tonight is for sleep. You can fall apart another day.
I hug the pillow tighter.
Me: You act like this is your job.
Jae: Maybe it is.
I can almost hear his breathing—controlled, restless.
Me: Why do you care so much?
The pause this time is unmistakable.
When he replies, it's stripped down to the bone.
Jae: Because if you break, it doesn't stop with you.
I don't fully understand that but it's reassuring.
Me: I'm tired.
Me: But my head won't shut up.
Jae: Then listen to me.
A voice note comes through. Low. Steady. Not soothing—anchoring.
"Hey. You don't need answers tonight. You don't need justice or meaning or blame. You just need rest. Tomorrow, the world can be loud again. Tonight, it's quiet. You're in your bed. You're breathing. That's enough."
I exhale.
"Every time your thoughts drift, bring them back to my voice. Not the past. Not the what-ifs. Me. Right here."
My shoulders finally loosen.
Me: …You're really not going anywhere, are you?
Jae: No.
One word. Solid.
"Close your eyes. I'll stay until you're asleep."
I do.
The room feels darker. Quieter. Safer.
His voice keeps coming—steady, watchful, like he's guarding a door I didn't even know was there.
And slowly, despite myself, my thoughts blur.
The last thing I hear before sleep takes me is his voice, fierce and certain:
"I've got you. Even when you don't know what you're standing on."