Amara's POV :
I showed up at Sarah's apartment the next morning with coffee and bagels because I didn't know what else to bring.
It felt like the kind of situation where you were supposed to bring something, not because it would fix anything, but because showing up empty-handed felt wrong.
I stood outside her door for a second before knocking. I could hear movement inside, slow footsteps dragging across the floor, and then the lock clicked.
She opened the door in pajamas, her hair in a messy bun that looked like it was barely holding together. Mascara was smudged under her eyes like she'd been crying and hadn't bothered to clean it up.
"You didn't have to come," she said, but she stepped aside anyway.
I walked in. The apartment smelled faintly like stale air and old coffee. There was a mug on the table, half full and untouched, and a blanket thrown over the couch like she hadn't moved from there in hours.
"You look like shit," I said, setting the coffee and bagels down.
