Brandon's POV
You know that sensation when your mind involuntarily travels back in time, taking you to moments you didn't even realize were still locked away?
It's as if one seemingly insignificant detail—something utterly benign, something you might encounter on any ordinary day—pries open a vault you've been unknowingly guarding, revealing memories long buried.
That's precisely how it felt standing just outside my bathroom that morning, a towel draped low around my waist, droplets of water trickling down my hair, the mirror clouded with steam. My phone lay buzzing impatiently on the dresser, vibrating as if it had urgent news to share.
"Let's meet up before your interview," the message illuminated on my screen, its brightness stark against the muted morning light.
It was from Bob.
I found myself staring at the text longer than I intended, each second deepening the tension in my jaw and filling my chest with a heaviness I recognized all too well.
