Carley sat in her room, staring blankly at the wall. Her chest ached with a familiar weight, a mix of anger and sadness she couldn’t shake. She hated herself for the outburst, but she hated the silence afterward even more.
She glanced at the small, worn photo on her nightstand—a picture of her as a toddler, cradled in her mother's arms. Her broad smile and kind eyes felt like a distant memory, a ghost she’d conjured every time her world felt too small and suffocating.
The knock on her door was soft, hesitant.
“What?” Carley barked, her voice sharp.
“It’s me,” Charlie said from the other side.
She sighed, dragging herself off the bed and cracking the door just enough to see his face. His expression wasn’t stern, as she’d expected, but cautious.
“Can I come in?”
Carley hesitat
