Sam's P.O.V.
Around 10, I hear the soft knock on my door before it creaks open. My mom steps in, smiling brightly like nothing has changed, like nothing is weighing on either of us. The air feels thick with unspoken tension, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
"How’s the packing going, sweetheart?" she asks, leaning against the doorframe. Her voice is chipper, casual—too casual for my liking.
I look around my room, my suitcase half-packed, clothes thrown in with little care. I can’t bring myself to be meticulous, not now. There’s too much hanging over me, too many questions, too many feelings. I turn to face her, forcing a smile, but it feels tight on my face. “It’s going fine,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Almost done.”
She nods, though there’s something in her eyes I can’t pla
