She was just making dinner.
But I felt numb.
Anxiety and depression can creep up on you.
Make you feel like it’s okay to disappear.
So I stayed on the floor for a long time.
• • •
When it passed I sat there for another few minutes just existing in the wrung-out quiet that comes after.
Empty in a way that was almost peaceful.
I looked at the walls.
God.
This is pathetic.
• • •
I forced myself up.
I couldn’t leave it like that. I don’t do that to them.
I went to the kitchen, already rehearsing the apology in my head.
But my mom just smiled when she saw me.
“Hey, sweetie. You feeling better?” She ruffled my hair like nothing had happened. “Come sit, dinner’s ready.”
My dad tapped the chair next to him.
I groaned. Dropped into it.
My mom had made my favorite.
Mac and cheese. BBQ chicken.
For a second — everything felt normal again.
Like maybe I’d made it bigger than it was.
Like maybe I was just being dramatic.
I grinned, trying to shake it off. “Maybe I should yell at you guys more often.”
They laughed.
But it didn’t last.
The air shifted.
“So…” My dad leaned forward slightly, voice gentler now. “What’s going on? You don’t have to tell us right now. But when you’re ready — we’re here.”
My chest tightened.
