Saturday mornings are supposed to feel light—an exhalation after the grind of weekdays. But this one felt like a sharp intake of breath, like a balloon stretching too thin, ready to burst. My phone was perched on the kitchen counter, the speakerphone making Rhys’s voice echo louder than usual, adding an extra edge to his words. The breakfast I’d made—a pair of eggs over easy and toast sprinkled with cinnamon—sat untouched on the table, cooling and forgotten. The entire room, my tiny dorm with barely enough space for two, felt claustrophobic under the weight of our argument.
“You’re being ridiculous, Kyle,” Rhys said, his voice strained, trying and failing to sound calm.
“Am I?” I snapped, my fingers tightening on the edge of the counter. “You went to a party, Rhys. You didn’t tell me abo
