Kara woke to a strange weight on her chest, heart thudding before she realized it wasn't a dream. It was the glow of her phone screen. She blinked against the light. Willow's face filled the frame, hair a mess, eyes wide.
Kara squinted, pushing the phone closer to her. "What.. what time is it?" Her voice was rough, sleepy.
"Too early," Willow muttered, relief softening into a shaky smile. "Relax, babe. I'm here. You just… fell asleep on me."
Kara let out a breath, then started laughing, burying her face in her pillow. "Shit. I forgot we never hung up."
"You were drooling, by the way," Willow teased, smirking through her exhaustion.
Kara shot her a look. "Liar."
Willow raised a brow. "Want me to replay it? I recorded."
"Don't you dare," Kara groaned, but the laughter spilling from her chest felt good, even if it cracked under the weight of everything else.
She sat up slowly, stretching, her hair falling into her face. "Okay, I need breakfast before I collapse. Call you later?"
Willow nodded, softer now. "Text me when you're free. I'll be waiting."
Kara ended the call reluctantly, staring at the dark screen before setting the phone down. For a moment, she pressed it to her lips, whispering, Don't leave me yet.
Downstairs, the smell of fried eggs and butter filled the air. Alva was already at the table, spoon in one hand, phone in the other, his usual too-calm morning face.
"Morning, sleepyhead," he said without looking up.
Kara dropped into the chair opposite, rubbing her eyes. "Morning. You didn't wake me."
"You looked like you needed it," Alva replied, sliding the plate toward her. "Eat before it gets cold."
She picked up her fork, poking at the egg. "Thanks. You're unusually nice today."
Alva finally glanced at her, a faint smirk tugging his mouth. "Don't get used to it. I just don't want Mom yelling at me because you skipped breakfast."
Kara rolled her eyes but smiled. For a few minutes, they ate in companionable silence, broken only when Alva flipped on the TV. A film was already queued with something indie, heavy with muted colors and long stares.
"You and your depressing films," Kara said around a mouthful of toast.
"They're not depressing," Alva countered, leaning back. "They're honest. Not everything has to have a happy ending."
"Spoken like someone who doesn't know how to lighten the hell up."
Alva gave her a look, but Kara laughed, the sound easing the knot in her chest.
When the credits rolled, Alva stretched. "Coffee?"
"Always."
They walked together to the café down the street, the late morning heat clinging to their skin. Kara ordered something iced, extra sweet—her little rebellion against Alva's bitter black brew. They sat outside, watching the hum of scooters and street vendors, the world moving too fast and too slow at once.
For a while, Kara let herself pretend everything was simple. Just siblings, coffee, sunlight. No interviews, no decisions, no heartbreak waiting at UNION café this evening.
Back in her room, Kara closed the door and leaned against it, her chest tight. The coffee buzzed in her veins, but it couldn't drown out the voice in her head.
She whispered into the stillness, as if saying it aloud would make it truer. "This is the only way. I have to do this. For me. For them. To make Mom proud. To prove I'm not just…" Her voice cracked. "Not just the screw-up."
Her guitar leaned in the corner, untouched. She didn't dare pick it up, not when her fingers shook too badly.
Instead, she picked up her phone. The lock screen glared back at her: UNION. 6 PM.
Her stomach flipped. Tonight wasn't just a date. Tonight was confession, confrontation, maybe collapse.
Kara buried her face in her hands. "God, just… let me get through this without losing everything."
Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to say it again, louder this time, as if repetition could make it truth.
"You're going to Bali. You're going to prove yourself. You're going to make them proud."
Her throat tightened, eyes stinging, but she pressed her palms flat to her knees like she could anchor herself.
And maybe, just maybe, if she said it enough, she'd believe it.