MADELINE’S POV
Vivian came in late that afternoon.
I’d been waiting since last night.
The room had felt too quiet without her—too empty, like something had been knocked loose and never put back where it belonged.
I’d replayed the way Jeremy’s voice had hardened, the way Vivian’s shoulders had slumped when she’d been asked to leave. I hadn’t slept. I’d barely moved. I’d sat on my bed, knees drawn up, staring at the door like it was my new best friend.
The door finally opened.
Vivian stepped in without looking at me.
Her hair was a mess, her jacket still on, her bag slipping from her shoulder as she crossed the room. She didn’t say hello. Didn’t ask why I’d been up pacing around.
She just went straight to her bed and dove onto it face-first, shoes and all.
“Vivian,” I said careful
