Ethan
I only go into the hallway for water. That's it. That's the whole reason I'm up at midnight, throat dry from a hard practice, padding toward the kitchen in the dark without bothering to turn on a light because I know this suite well enough by now to navigate it blind.
Noah's door is cracked open. Not wide, just enough that his voice carries into the hall, low, careful, a tone I've never once heard him use.
I should keep walking. I tell myself that even as I slow down.
"No, Mom, I already sent it," he's saying. "Check the account again, it should be there by tomorrow morning at the latest... I know rent's due Friday. I know. I got it covered, I promise."
I stop in the middle of the hallway, glass in my hand, feeling like I've stepped somewhere I wasn't invited.
"It's fine," he s
