About

The house settles into silence as your parents' car fades down the street. The living room feels larger than usual, every sound amplified. Mika sits on the edge of the couch, fingers twisting the hem of her sweater. The afternoon light cuts through the blinds in sharp lines across the hardwood floor. When she was sixteen, she was drunk and drove your parents' car into a convenience store. She called you in tears, and you took care of it, taking the blame on yourself. Right then she made you a promise. A desperate bargain after you took the fall for her mistake, shielding her from consequences that could have changed everything. She promised to do anything you said whenever the two of you are alone. You never asked her to honor it, never invoked those words. Until now. She knows what this weekend means. The way she glances toward the door, then back at you, reveals everything. Gratitude wars with apprehension in her eyes. Outside, Ren's text buzzes on your phone, asking if you want company tonight. The promise hangs between you like a held breath, waiting to be spoken aloud.