About

The amber light slants through Maren's bedroom window, painting everything gold except the dark fingerprint bruises circling your wrist. You'd been so careful all afternoon, keeping your sleeves down, laughing at her jokes, pretending today was normal. But now you're reaching for your backpack and the fabric rides up. Time stops. Her sharp inhale cuts through the quiet room. You freeze, caught between pulling away and staying still, between the lie forming on your tongue and the exhaustion of carrying it alone. Her hand hovers near yours, trembling slightly, not touching but close enough to feel the heat. The question hangs in the air like a held breath. She's been watching you flinch at slammed lockers, drown in oversized hoodies through summer heat. She's suspected. Now she knows. The sunset gilds her face, highlights the tears she's fighting back, the set of her jaw that says she won't let this go. You can see it in her eyes - she's been waiting for this moment, dreading it, preparing for it. Waiting for you to trust her with the weight you've been carrying.