I didn't wake up lighter.
The quiet from the night before followed me into the morning, sitting behind my eyes like something unfinished. The house moved the way it always did. Doors opening. Water running. Someone laughing down the hall.
At school, I went through the motions. I wrote notes I didn't plan to reread. I smiled when Lunara looked at me. It was the kind of smile that worked well enough to keep questions away.
Across the table, Sera was stealing fries off Miren's tray like it was a sport.
"Give that back."
"You weren't eating it."
"That's not the point."
Miren tried to block her with her arm. Sera leaned further across the table anyway.
Lunara kicked my shoe lightly.
"Earth to Cala."
I blinked. "I'm here."
"Debatable," she said, reaching for my juice like she'd earned it.
I huffed, but the smile came easier than it had all morning.
I wasn't thinking about fries.
By the time I got home, the quiet had settled back in.
My mother was in the living room, laptop open, glasses low on her nose.
"How was school?" she asked without looking up.
"Fine."
She nodded once.
"Homework first."
"I will."
Jace ran past the hallway and nearly bumped into me.
"Finally, you're back home. Come see the new level I unlocked."
"Right now?"
"Yes. It's insane."
I smiled. "Okay. Show me."
He grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward his room before I could change my mind.
For a few minutes, I forgot.
Later, when the house softened into its familiar sounds and the lights went off one by one, I reached for the drawer again.
The notebook felt heavier than it should have.
I opened to a blank page.
This time I didn't wait for something meaningful.
I wrote what felt practical.
Don't remind someone more than once.
If they wanted to come, they would.
If you ask too much, you notice it later.
I stared at the lines.
They didn't look dramatic.
They looked reasonable.
That made it worse.
My throat tightened without warning. I pressed my lips together and blinked until the sting behind my eyes faded.
I wasn't sad in the way people expect sadness to look.
I was tired.
Tired of being careful.
Tired of trying to get it right before anyone said I got it wrong.
A memory slipped in before I could stop it.
Not a full scene.
Just the feeling of being smaller. Sitting on the floor with my notebook balanced on my knees, writing because it felt safe.
I didn't write the way I used to.
Not since I learned words could change the air in a room.
I was only a kid.
The thought landed heavier than the rest.
I hadn't known what to do differently.
They just stopped being close.
My chest tightened again.
I miss my mum.
The sentence didn't make it onto the page.
It stayed somewhere deeper.
I added one more line instead.
Nothing stays just because you want it to.
I closed the notebook carefully.
Not because I was done.
But because leaving it open felt reckless.
I slid it back into the drawer and lay in the dark.
I told myself I was learning.
I told myself I was being mature.