Anna's POV
I don’t realize how tightly wound I am until I step outside, and the night air hits my lungs.
I lock the front door quietly behind me, leaning my forehead against the cool wood for half a second longer than necessary. Inside, my parents are still talking—voices warm, content, unaware of the storm swirling just beneath my ribs.
Ben’s laughter echoes faintly from the living room.
I pushed away from the door and walked down the steps, my phone clutched in my hand like an anchor. When Marcus’s reply came through—Yeah. Let’s meet.—I’d felt something in my chest settle into place. Not disappear. Just… steady.
The street is quiet, streetlights casting soft halos on the pavement. I start walking toward the corner where we always seem to end up when things need to be said. My though
