Amanda had only been back from school for a few days when she began to notice it—the change.
The house, once warm and familiar, now hummed with an unspoken tension. Every time Trahy's eyes met hers, she felt it. A weight, a distance, something unnameable but real.
It happened late one afternoon. Amanda went over to Trahy's place, expecting nothing more than a quiet catch-up. Instead, she found his girlfriend already there.
The three of them tried to talk, but words quickly tangled. A casual remark from Amanda landed wrong. His girlfriend's expression hardened.
"You know what? I don't need this," she snapped, standing abruptly.
"Wait—" Trahy tried, but she had already stormed out, ignoring his voice.
Silence fell like a hammer. Amanda froze, her chest tight, realizing that somehow, without meaning to, she had lit the spark that ended it.
Trahy's jaw clenched. His eyes, filled with wounded anger, avoided hers. Then, without a word, he turned and disappeared into his room.
Amanda sat there in the living room, staring at the closed door. The sound of a bottle cap twisting open carried through the house, followed by the bitter scent of alcohol.
And for the first time, Amanda felt the ground shift beneath them.