Page 39 of Shattered

“She decided on pills over staying. Chose not dealing with her pain over dealing with her son. And I know it’s more complicated than that. I know depression doesn’t work that way. But when you’re twelve and your mother would rather die than remember you exist…” He swallowed hard. “It destroys something. That feeling of being erased by someone who’s supposed to love you most.”

I couldn’t breathe. My mind processing what he’d just shared. Axel never talked about his parents beyond basic facts. Never showed this kind of rawness.

“Does it ever get easier?” I asked.

“No.” He said it simply. “But you learn to carry it differently. You learn to build a life around the grief instead of waiting for it to go away.”

We sat in silence. At some point our shoulders touched. Neither of us moved away.

The grief felt less suffocating with him beside me. Less like drowning, more like… existing with something heavy.

Then I started crying without meaning to. Quiet tears that kept coming, for my mother and time running out and conversations we’d never have once she forgot how to speak my name.

Axel didn’t tell me to stop. Didn’t offer platitudes or try to fix it. Just shifted closer, his arm coming around my shoulders, solid and warm and steady.

I let myself lean into him. Let myself fall apart in a way I hadn’t let myself do in weeks, while Brooklyn turned dark below us and Axel held me like it didn’t matter that I was a mess.

When the crying finally stopped, I was pressed against his side, his shirt damp from my tears. I pulled away with the intention of apologizing and when I looked up.

He was already looking down.

The air between us changed. Got heavy.

His eyes dropped to my mouth. My breath caught.

I shifted closer. Just an inch. Maybe less.

His hand came to my face, thumb brushing my cheek—gentle, questioning, asking something he wasn’t saying aloud.

I started closing the distance, and his eyes went dark, and I could feel his breath, and?—

My phone rang and the moment shattered like glass.

We jerked apart. I grabbed my phone with shaking hands, and saw Daniel’s name.

“Hey.” My voice came out breathless and quick.

“Hey yourself. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

I cleared my throat before voicing the lie, “No. Just sitting on the balcony.”

“Is Axel there?”

I looked at Axel, who was looking at the city like it held secrets. “Yeah. He’s here.”

“That’s good, I just wanted to check on you both,”

Daniel kept talking. I kept responding. But I couldn’t focus on anything except the feeling of Axel’s arm around me, the warmth bleeding away as he put careful distance between us, the almost-kiss that hung unfinished in the air.

When I finally hung up, neither of us spoke. The silence felt like a bruise.

“I should—” I started.

“Yeah,” Axel said. “Me too.”

We gathered the containers in silence. Went inside and cleaned up without looking at each other.

“I’m tired,” I said finally. “I’m going to bed.”