(Karen’s POV – Present Tense)

The apartment is quiet, too quiet. Every tick of the clock sounds like a verdict.

I sit at the edge of the bed, journal in hand, Yasmin’s words from last night echoing: None of us got a choice.

I trace the ink across the page, letting the letters blur under my fingertips. My chest feels heavy — not just from anger, but from exhaustion. The weight of everything Dre and Yasmin have carried, everything they hid from me, presses down.

I should feel relief ...