Mara shows up with grocery bags and attitude.
“Okay,” she says, stepping into my apartment and looking around like an appraiser. “Rule number one. You unpack. Rule number two. You don’t spiral. Rule number three.” She holds up her hand. “Give me your phone.”
I laugh, weak. “What?”
She doesn’t laugh back. “I’m serious.”
I look at my phone like it might bite me if I let go. Like it’s a small, glowing portal to everything I’m trying not to feel. The headlines. Ethan. Celeste. Luca. Me, rewritten by people who don’t know how I take my coffee or how I sleep curled on my left side when I’m anxious.
“Mara,” I start.
She softens. Steps closer. “Solene. You’re safe here. But you need a minute. Just a few days. Let me hold the world for you.”
Something in my chest gives. Just a little.
I han
