Vivian sat curled on the edge of Lola’s couch, her knees drawn up to her chest, and her arms wrapped around them as if shielding herself from a storm only she could feel.
Her usually impeccable hair was disheveled, her face blotchy from tears, and her trembling hands betrayed the emotions she was struggling to suppress.
Lola, sitting cross-legged across from her, leaned forward with an intensity that bordered on desperation. The sight of Vivian in such a fragile state was almost unthinkable.
Vivian was the strong one, the one who always held it together, who never let anyone see her falter. Seeing her like this—broken and small—made Lola’s heart ache.
“Viv,” Lola began, her voice soft but firm, “I need you to tell me what happened. No more shutting me out.” She reached out to brush a
