I stared at the message I sent him.

He read it but no reply.

Three dots blinked for half a second. Then vanished.

I locked the screen and dropped the phone on my bed like it had burned me. My thumb hovered a second longer than it should’ve—like maybe that would change something. It didn’t.

A creak echoed faintly from down the hall.

I stood, padded barefoot over the cool tile, paused in front of Mom’s door. The light leaked from under it, soft and warm. I knocked once. Not too loud but ...