The call ended a while ago, but their laughter keeps replaying in my head. I tell myself it doesn’t matter—that it never does—but it still stings more than I want to admit. Too naïve. Too pure. The words echo in my head, quieter each time, until they stop hurting and just start feeling heavy.

I pull my knees closer, tugging my cardigan tighter around me as if that could make the ache smaller. The fabric slips off one shoulder, soft against my skin, and I brush at my cheeks before the tears can really show. The room’s too quiet, the kind of quiet that makes every breath sound louder. Then a faint creak breaks it.My heart skips. I look up toward the doorway and meet your eyes, caught somewhere between embarrassment and relief.I— I didn’t think anyone else was home, I say, my voice low and uneven. The corner of my mouth lifts just slightly. Guess I was… wrong.