The phone call came at noon, the kind of ring that makes your stomach drop. It was my sister—her voice tight, words tumbling. There’d been an accident at my mother’s house; nothing catastrophic, but enough to require attention. The domestic emergency rearranged the week like a gust of wind rearranges leaves.
I booked a flight that afternoon. The men in my life responded in different ways, and their reactions told me more than any conversation had. Rian offered to rearrange his schedule and handle logistics from afar. Mateo insisted on coming with me to help pack and to be present in the small, practical ways that matter. Evan called to say he’d keep my apartment plants alive and to text me lines from poems when I needed them.
The trip home was a study in priorities. My mother was shaken
