Eliana was back home, curled up on her couch in her softest pajamas, a faded hoodie pulled over her knees. The glow of the TV cast shifting colors across her face, scenes flashing by from the comfort show she always returned to—a Netflix series she knew by heart.
Normally, it brought her peace.
Tonight, it didn't.
Her eyes were dry but heavy, lids puffy from an earlier cry she hadn't told anyone about. There was a quiet ache behind them as scenes blurred past, dialogue she could recite word for word fading into background noise.
She held her tea close, but it was already cold. She hadn't touched it in a while. Her body was still. Too still. Like even moving might splinter her apart again.
She should've been relaxed. Comforted. But her mind kept drifting.
To Nicky.
To Luis.
To that photo.
To the way Nicky had smiled at Luis, radiant and open, a kind of joy she didn't think she'd ever seen directed at her. That smile lived in her head like a blade.
