~Narrator’s~

“Ma’am, I know I have no right to be standing here,” Reo says in a low voice, breath steady but thick with guilt. “But I came… because I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

He's standing in the doorway of the humble bungalow, wind ruffling the paper bag of sealed prescriptions in his grip. The front porch creaks under his polished shoes. There’s no chauffeur, no staff. Just him and an empty heart trying to repair something he broke too many times.

Jennie’s mother, short and worn from years of worry, eyes him with a raised brow. She doesn't open the screen door fully. Not yet. Her silence...