The following evening, Cassandra stood outside Vince’s bedroom door with a tray balanced carefully in her hands. The hallway light spilled over her like a soft halo, catching the faint tremble in her fingers as they hovered just above the handle.
She hesitated.
The tray was simple—just a few freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and a mug of warm almond milk, exactly the way he liked it. But this wasn’t about snacks, not really. This was about showing up. About stepping into his world without pushing, about letting him know that she saw him—truly saw him—even if she didn’t yet understand everything.
She drew in a deep breath, steadying her heart, and then knocked softly.
There was a pause.
Then, faintly through the door, “Yeah?”
“It’s me, baby,” she said, her voice gentle. “Can I come
