Thankfully, he was fine. While waiting for test results, I scrolled through my phone. Alyssa's latest post stared back at me: Derek, carefully cleaning a scrape on her knee. The caption read, "Thank you, Derek, for rushing to me. Just a minor scooter scrape, phew."
I stared at that tiny scratch and laughed, a hollow sound.
The laughter turned to tears.
It finally sank in. To Derek, only Alyssa's emergencies mattered. Everything about me—my pain, my family, my heart—would always be pushed to "next time."
Derek, if you knew this trip home was me coming clean to my parents about breaking our bond, that these were our final days together, would you feel even a flicker of regret?
I wasn't holding my breath for an answer.
My phone buzzed—Brian. We'd gotten closer sorting out the bond-break
