Zander sat on the edge of his bed, his guitar resting on his lap, the strings cold beneath his fingers. The room was dim, lit only by the fading light from the window. Outside, the sky was a dull orange, the last bits of daylight slipping away as the world outside seemed to quiet down. His gaze was distant, unfocused, as he strummed absent-mindedly, letting the sound fill the emptiness in the room.

It wasn’t like him to feel lost—he was used to knowing where he was going, knowing what he wanted. But tonight, everything felt uncertain, like he was in a place he couldn’t escape from, no matter how...