The words made my anger flare. “What does that even mean? Their son is dead.”
He looked at me, then away. “They’re wealthy people. They don’t forgive mistakes like the one Karl made.”
“What mistake?”
Daniel’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it like it had saved him.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I have to go.”
“Daniel.”
But he was already walking away—fast enough to look like panic.
That was the first crack.
The second came later that night, in the house Karl and I had shared.
Everything looked like he might walk through the door at any moment, and that made it unbearable.
I lay down, closed my eyes, and saw him collapsing again.
And again.
And again.
Before dawn, I got up, packed a backpack, and left.
I didn’t have a plan. I just knew I couldn’t stay in that house another hour. I went to the station and bought a bus ticket to somewhere I had never been, because distance felt like the only thing I could still control.
When the bus pulled away, I leaned my head against the window and watched the city blur into the gray morning. For the first time all week, I could breathe without feeling like I was swallowing glass.
