After his father's words hung in the room, he took Linda by the arm and left. Linda's face was etched with worry and heartbreak, and the moment she saw Sean outside, she clutched his arm desperately.
"Please… you have to make Morrison go apologize. He has to try to make things right!"
Sean's expression was one of helpless resignation. There was nothing anyone could do. Some things could only be done willingly, by one's own choice. No amount of urging could force the heart.
Once his parents left, the apartment felt colder, emptier. Morrison remained where they had left him, smoke curling lazily from the cigarette between his fingers. He lit another, the ember glowing like a tiny defiance in the dim light.
After a long drag, he finally picked up his phone, flipping it open with deliberate calm. Ignoring the dozens of missed calls and notifications that threatened to explode his device, he began typing. Slow, precise, deliberate.
