The voicemail ended, and Cyren stood there, stuck, letting her aunt’s words linger. Her grip tightened against the side of the bed, fingers curling into the comforter as the tears she’d been holding back finally broke free. One slipped, then another, until there was no stopping them. Her chest heaved with uneven and shallow breaths as she cried in silence.
Not just for herself, but for her aunt, who was forcing strength into her voice while working herself into exhaustion just to avoid her home and the loss of her son. And for Skylar, who was hiding behind the lens of a camera that couldn’t really see her because feeling it all at once might break her.
She was also crying for the people they lost.
The ones who should’ve still been there, filling the house with noise, laughter, FaceTime calls that turned into hours, and plans that actually got followed through. The ones who made everything feel full.
Now everything felt forced. Like grief had unpacked its bags, made itself at home in all of them, and showed up in different ways. Cyren drew in a shaky breath, slowly letting it out as shesat there, caught between wanting to pull herself together and not having the strength to.
Tomorrow was coming either way.
And neither of them was ready for it.
2
When Bre suggested that she get some rest and sleep in, Cyren didn’t think she’d actually take her advice. Waking up at four in the afternoon wasn’t intentional. Morning had come and gone without her even noticing. Between her tears, a restless night, and a slight headache, sleeping in was the best option. She’d been drifting in and out all day, crying until her chest hurt, dozing off from exhaustion, then waking right back up with the same ache, idly waiting.
Her eyes burned as she blinked up at the ceiling. They were dry now and sore from everything she’d released. For a minute, she just laid there. She didn’t reach for her phone, didn’t check the time, and didn’t worry about what was going on outside of those four walls.
“It’s really been two years, Mommy,” she mumbled, swallowing the ache that wouldn’t disappear.
Cyren’s nostrils flared at the thought of why her mother wasn’t there. Nicole had been taken away from her and their family in a way that still didn’t feel real when she let herself think about it for too long.
Car accidents were common. Fatal ones weren’t. They barely made up a fraction of reported crashes, which only made it worse. Nicole didn’t die from something ordinary. There was nothing normal about the way her life ended, and Cyren would forever have a chip on her shoulder about it.
Although the police claimed they terminated the pursuit before the crash happened, Cyren didn’t believe them for one second. Witnesses said otherwise, and the people who were there, who saw the lights and heard the sirens, watched it unfold in real time. Still, every statement was brushed aside as if it didn’t matter.
Like it didn’t matter that someone lost their life.
A man running from the police blew through a red light without even thinking twice. Nicole had been stopped, waiting like she was supposed to, along with another driver. Just regular people, minding their business. And in a split second, he slammed into them both, turning their lives into nothing more than collateral damage in a situation they had no part in.
And of course, the man being chased survived. It felt like a stab in the heart knowing he had minor injuries, still got another chance to breathe, stand in a courtroom to hear his sentencing, and continue on with a life Nicole didn’t get to finish.
Cyren didn’t consider it justice just because he was serving a decade behind bars. Like that was supposed to even the scales. It didn’t. No sentence was bringing her mama back. She squeezed her eyes shut, her jaw tightening as the memory played on a loop in her head.
“Ugh,” she groaned, her eyes watering. “Do not start crying again.”
Growing up, her granny had always told her, “Crying cleanses the soul.” Cyren was sure she had the purest one with the way she’d been letting it all out. Her grief hadn’t softened the way people said it would. It didn’t shrink or fade. She just learned how to handle it differently. Some days it rested quietly, giving her small reminders that it was still there. Days like today... it took up every ounce of space.
Her chest tightened again. Not enough to send her spiraling like last night, but enough to have her massaging where her heart thumped. Finally searching through the mess of covers for her phone, Cyren squinted at the screen and the notifications.
There weren’t many that felt important enough to pull her out of the space she was in, but if she didn’t respond to Gabi, soon, she’d be calling someone to do a wellness check. For a second, she thought about getting up, showering, and doing something to break the cycle she’d been stuck in since yesterday, but her body didn’t follow through. Instead, she cuddled deeper into the mattress, pulling the cover closer around her, just as Gabi’s name flashed across the screen with an incoming FaceTime call.
Cyren cleared her throat before answering. “Hello. You’re going to live a long time.”
“Well, hello sunshine,” Gabi cheerfully greeted, pulling a small, reluctant smile out of her. “Is that right?”
“Mhm. You literally just crossed my mind.”
“It’s nice to be thought about.” Gabi slightly tilted her head, forcing the knotless braids she’d tossed in a messy bun to loosen. “You just woke up from a nap?”
The question triggered her senses, forcing a yawn past Cyren’s lips. “Yes. It’s like my fifth one today.”
“And that’s okay,” Gabi said, gently. “Your body probably needed it. That means you’re well rested now and can get up out of the house.”
Groaning, Cyren rolled onto her side, pressing her cheek into the pillow. “Who said I wanted to get out?”
“You did. You texted me yesterday and said, ‘I think I’ma get out of the house tomorrow’. I’m just making sure you follow through with those plans. Plus, it’s nice out there today.”
