Regina gazed at Lucas's face, searching for a crack in his expression, something to explain the words that still echoed in her mind.
"I should've told Grandma I was tired."
It hadn't been a slip of the tongue. It felt… old. Heavy. Like a truth finally breaking through after years of silence.
"Lucas," she said softly, almost afraid to shatter the moment, "what did you mean by that?"
But Lucas didn't look at her. His eyes were still lost somewhere outside that window, like the night itself held the answer.
"I meant," he finally said, voice low, "I wasn't okay back then."
Lucas let out a slow, shaky breath, his hand gripping the windowsill as if it could anchor him to reality. The weight of those years, the years he'd tried so hard to bury, started to spill over the edges.
