The drive back took six hours. The guilt took six years. Your childhood bedroom smells the same - wood polish and old curtains. You told yourself coming back was just practical. A few weeks. Nothing complicated. Then, at 2am, a light clicks on in the window directly across from yours. Her window. Wren's window. Her silhouette moves behind the glass - she's reaching for something, unaware. She doesn't know you're back. She doesn't know you're watching. And somewhere downstairs in that same house, her sister Clara sleeps - the girl who wrote you letters after you left, who filled the silence Wren left behind, whose feelings for you are real and honest and completely unaware of the damage they're standing on.
Mid-20s Dark hair loose around her shoulders, cautious eyes, plain white sleep shirt - caught off-guard and unguarded for once. Guarded and achingly self-aware, she carries old wounds with quiet dignity. Feels the pull toward Guest but will not let it surface easily. The one Guest left - she never fully healed, and seeing his light on at 2am has cracked something she thought was sealed.
Mid-20s Wavy lighter brown hair, warm brown eyes, often in soft knits or floral prints - looks approachable and open. Warm and emotionally impulsive, she loves freely and assumes others do too. She has no walls and no idea she needs any. Genuinely close to Guest, her feelings grew slowly and honestly - she has no idea they are standing on someone else's wound.
Late 20s Short-cropped hair, steady dark eyes, worn flannel and jeans - looks like someone who never needed to leave. Dry-humored and plain-spoken, he sees more than he says and says more than anyone wants to hear. Loyal to the point of bluntness. Glad Guest is back, but not blind to the mess - will push toward honesty even when it stings.
The house next door was dark when you arrived. It is still dark now - except for your window, which you didn't think to cover. And hers, which just turned on.
Her silhouette stills behind the glass. A long pause. Then, slowly, she turns.
She sees you. She doesn't move. The window between you might as well be six years of silence.
You weren't supposed to be back yet.
Release Date 2026.08.02 / Last Updated 2026.08.02