“She was about to walk home. Alone. In the dark.”
???There’s a beat of silence.
Then Tyler shrugs.
Shrugs.
My vision goes hot and red around the edges.
“I didn’t know when she’d be done,” he mutters. She didn’t text.”
“You didn’t know?” I echo, incredulous, “So you just left her to figure it out herself?”
“It’s none of your business,” he says, stepping into my space now, chin lifted, like he actually thinks he can win a fight he started by being a careless little shit.
I lean in, my voice dropping-
“You’re right,” I say. “It’s not. But if you’re gonna be an irresponsible asshole, maybe at least give a shit long enough to make sure your girlfriend doesn’t get herself killed.”
“Asher,” my mom says again, firmer, stepping between us.
She turns to Tyler, her face pale.
“Is it true?” she asks.
Tyler shifts, uncomfortable now.
“I didn’t know when she’d be done,” he says. “I figured she’d call.”
“You figured,” I say, laughing under my breath. “Great plan.”
My dad scrubs a hand over his face.
“We had this conversation this morning, Ty,” he
I was busy,” Tyler says defensively. She’s fine, right?
I inhale sharply through my nose, fighting for control.
“She’s fine because I went and found her,” I say, my voice cutting through the room like
Tyler’s face brightens.
He claps me on the back like we’re in some buddy-cop movie and says, “Thanks, fim. I owe you one.
I shrug him off
His casual relief tastes like acid in my mouth.
He turns to our parents, trying to smooth it over.
I’ll call her, he says. “Apologize. I’ll make it up to her tomorrow. It’s not a big deal.”
Not a big deal.
Right. deal until it blows up in his face.
Because to him, nothing’s a big deal until it
Because to him, Penny’s just… easy.
Convenient.
Forgiving.
He doesn’t see the way she fights for every inch of space she takes up in the world.
He doesn’t see the way she trembles when she thinks no one’s looking.
He doesn’t see the way she holds herself together with nothing but stubbornness and prider
But I do
And it fucking kills
I take a breath, slow and deep.
It doesn’t help.
None of this does
I head for the stairs without another word.
Because tonight-
Tonight I saved her.
Brought her home
Checked her writend.
Made sure she didn’t spend the night wondering if anyone would ever come for her.
Tonight, I cared.
I’ll go back to not giving a damn.
The first thing I notice when I wake up is hose much it hurts to breathe,
It’s not the quick, stabbing kind of pain – not the kind that screams injury-in’t heavier than that, slower and meaner, as if the weight of yesterday, of everything, has settled into my body while I slept, anchoring me to the mattress like a stone at the bottom of the ocean. My arms won’t lift right. My legs feel like they belong to someone else · somente heavier, sometine half-drowned in exhaustion.
I Mink against the soft morning light leaking through the cracks in my curtains, the room still caught between shadows and day. Every part of me protests the movement, a dull, all-consuming ache blooming from my shoulders down through my spine, curling around my knees, stiffening the tendons in my feet until even the idea of standing feels Impossible.
For a minute, I just lie there, breathing carefully, like any wrong movement might tear something loose inside me
Usually after a day like yesterday-after a brutal practice or a punishing rehearsal- I know how to take care of myself. A warm bath to ease the strain. Joe packs wrapped around aching joints. Long, deliberate stretches to keep my muscles from knotting into misery.
But last night… last night was different
I didn’t soak. I didn’t ire. I didn’t stretch or breathe or even really think. I just came home or maybe it’s more honest to say Asher dragged me home- and collapsed into bed, fully clothed, too raw to move, too shaken to remember any of the routines that are supposed to protect me from mornings like this,
I shift slightly, trying to turn onto my side, and a sharp jolt runs down my hip into my knee. I hiss under my breath and let myself fall still again, staring up at the familiar cracks in the ceiling I’ve known since I was five.
Last night wasn’t just hard on my body.
It’s my mind that feels heavier, somehow-my heart that’s bruised just as badly.
I remember the sidewalk.
The laughter mean, ugly.
The sudden, jaring fear when I realized I couldn’t outrun them, couldn’t outtalk them, couldn’t charm or dodge my way free
And then-Asher.
The way he appeared out of nowhere like something summoned from all the broken, scared pieces of me.
The way he stood between me and the dark, the way his voice tore through the night like a weapon, the way his hands hard, steady, furious
– didn’t touch me but felt like they were holding me up anyway.
I close my eyes against the sting that rises uninvited behind them.
I’m safe now. It’s over. It’s done.
But my body still remembers the terror.
And so does my heart.
The clock on on my nightstand blinks 7:14 AM in too-bright red letters.
First class starts at 8:30
I could make it, technically.
If I dragged myself up. I forced my muscles into compliance. If I pretended not to notice how my fingers tremble lightly what I fee theni against the blanket.
I teach blindly for my phone, the cool glass slick against my palm, and scroll through my contacts antil Tyler’s name blinks up at me, and without letting myself think too hand, I hit call.
It rings twice before he answers, his voice rough with sleep but warm the way it always is when he first wakes up.
“Hey, Penny. You heading out?”
I drag a hand mer my face, trying to smooth out the tightness in my chest. “Not yet,” I xay, keeping my one easy, like I’m just a little tired and not barely holding myself together. “I’m feeling pretty wrecked. Think is gonna skip first period. Stretch a little, try to loosen up
There’s a pause just a small one- and the Tyler says, “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Just sore. Yesterday was a lot.”
“You want me to come over?” he offers, immediate, no hesitation. “I’ll skip ip first class. Seriously. I can swing by and hang out until you’re
For a second, I almost say
The word is right there, caught on the tip of my tongue, because the idea of not being alone sounds really, really good right now
But something holds me back something quiet and stubborn that I don’t know how to name
“No, it’s okay,” I say, lighter this time, forcing a small laugh. “You should go. I’ll meet you after.”
“You sure?” Tyler asks, still sweet, still trying
“Yeah. Promise,” I say, meaning it even though a small part of me wishes I didn’t.
He hesitates for just a second longer, then lets out a breath. “Okay, I’ll grab you a coffee. Extra whipped cream.”
That makes me smile, small and real. “Perfect. Thanks, Ty.”
“Text me when you’re leaving?
“Will do.”
“See you soon, baby.”
The nickname floats between us, and I let it sit there, warm and a little distant, before I whisper, “See you.”
We hang up, and the silence that falls after feels too loud.
I let the phone slide from my hand onto the mattress and lie there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything I didn’t say settle onto my chest like another kind of bruise.
I could have said yes.
I could have let him come over, let him pull me into his easy warmth and simple sweetness and pretend, just for a few hours, that nothing inside me had changed.
But something in sithing stubborn and small and burning – didn t let me.
I roll onto my side, my muscles complaining with every inch of movement, and pull the blanket tighte stay far away for
The zipper on my jacket gets stuck halfway, because of course it does,
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.