Chapter Seventeen
(Sky)
The mailbox is heavier than usual.
Bills. Overdue notices. Debt letters stacked in neat, cruel piles. They stare at me from the counter like silent judges, reminding me of everything I've failed to fix.
I drop my bag, kick off my shoes, and let the apartment swallow me.
Evan's door is closed. He's not calling. He's not smiling. He's not hugging me. And maybe… he won't ever notice.
I take a deep breath and begin sorting through the letters. Electricity. Rent. Credit cards. Medical bills I've hidden from him. The numbers blur. My hands shake. My knees threaten to buckle.
I swallow the panic, tuck it behind my ribs where he won't see it. Where nobody will see it.
Because that's what I've always done. Carry the weight. Carry everything. Carry him.
I move from room to room, cleaning, cooking, mopping, folding. Each task a distraction. Each motion a prayer that somehow, somewhere, this is enough.
It isn't.
I can feel the cracks widening in my chest. The apartment feels colder than usual, the walls tighter. Every creak and groan of the floorboards mirrors the ache in my body.
By the time Evan finally steps out of his room, the sun has set. His eyes glance at me briefly, distracted.
"Dinner's ready," I say quietly, my voice raw from exhaustion.
He doesn't reply. Just nods and sits.
I watch him, feeling every ounce of fatigue, every sleepless night, every skipped meal, every single debt letter I shoved into a drawer just to keep him from worrying, press into my shoulders like bricks.
I realize then… no one sees this. No one will ever see this. Not truly.
And maybe that's why I keep going.
Because even when doors are closed, even when letters pile up like silent accusations, even when the boy I raised hates what he sees of me…
I love him.
Still.
And somehow, that's supposed to be enough.