The morning sun filtered through Kara's curtains, sharp and too bright after a restless night. She blinked awake, fumbling for her phone. No new notifications. No texts. No missed calls.
Her chest tightened. Normally, Willow's name would already be there—some silly meme, a sleepy good-morning, a half-posed selfie. Today, the silence rang louder than any alarm.
Kara sat up, rubbing her temples. She just needs time. Give her time.
She forced herself out of bed, showered, and spread her acceptance email and checklists across the desk. Photocopies of her ID, transcripts, the forms that needed signatures—it all felt overwhelming, but at least it kept her hands busy.
By afternoon, the house was unusually quiet. Her mom appeared at the doorway, arms crossed but face softer than usual.
"So," her mom began, eyes flicking over the papers scattered on Kara's desk, "you're really preparing for this, huh?"
Kara swallowed, bracing herself. "Yeah. I… I need to. The university gave me a timeline. I don't want to mess it up."
Her mom stepped inside, pulling a chair closer. "I'll admit, when you first said Bali, I thought you were just trying to run away. From us. From… Willow."
Kara's stomach knotted, but she stayed quiet.
"But," her mom continued, voice gentler now, "seeing you like this… focused, determined… maybe this is exactly what you need."
Kara blinked, unsure she'd heard right. "So… you're okay with it?"
Her mom hesitated, then nodded. "If it's what will make you grow, then yes. I don't want to stand in your way anymore."
Her dad appeared behind her, leaning against the doorframe. He rarely spoke during these things, but now he cleared his throat. "We'll help with what we can. Tickets, fees, whatever. Just promise you'll call us once you're there."
Kara's throat burned. She couldn't remember the last time the three of them spoke without it spiraling into argument. She gave a small, shaky smile. "I promise."
Her mom reached across the desk, squeezing her hand. "Make us proud, Kara."
The words landed heavy, but for the first time in a long time, they didn't feel like a weapon. They felt like a blessing.
Kara let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, nodding slowly. "I'll try my best."
For the first time in months, maybe years, the room didn't feel like a battlefield. It felt like home.
_________________________________________
By evening, Kara's phone was still silent. She checked it more times than she wanted to admit—refreshing chats, reopening her call log as if a new notification might magically appear. Nothing. Willow was a blank space.
"Don't overthink," Kara muttered to herself, tossing the phone onto her bed. "She said she needs time. Give it to her."
Still, the ache wouldn't leave. She needed company.
Down the hall, she found Alva sprawled across Alec's bed, flipping through a comic book. Kara climbed onto the mattress beside her cousin, stealing one of the pillows.
"You look depressed," Alva teased without looking up.
Kara groaned, burying her face in the pillow. "I'm not depressed. Just… anxious."
"Same thing," Alva said, smirking.
Kara swatted her with the pillow, and soon they were both laughing. The sound was a relief, cutting through the tension that had been knotting her chest all day.
Then Alva's phone buzzed. Alec's name lit up the screen. "Speak of the devil," Alva said, answering with speakerphone. "Oi, bro, guess who's here hogging your bed."
Alec's voice crackled through the speaker, full of mock suspicion. "Let me guess… Kara, crying into my pillow?"
Kara sat up, glaring at the phone. "Rude. And I'm not crying."
"You sound like you're crying," Alec teased.
"Shut up," Kara muttered, but a smile tugged at her lips.
Alva stretched out, grinning. "You know, the three of us should just make a group chat. You're always checking in on each other anyway."
Kara perked up. "Yeah… we could call it, I don't know… the Three Musketeers?"
Alec chuckled. "Cheesy, but I like it."
Alva gave a dramatic bow, even though no one could see her. "Then it's settled. From this day forward, we ride together, we rant together, and..."
"we deal with Mom & Dean together," Kara cut in, half-laughing, half-serious.
That broke all three of them into laughter. For a few minutes, it felt like nothing could touch them—not rejection, not expectations, not even the silence from Willow. Just the bond of siblings who, despite everything, still chose each other.
After they hung up, Kara leaned against Alva, her head heavy on her cousin's shoulder. The laughter had helped, but when the quiet returned, so did the ache.
She whispered more to herself than to Alva, "I hope I'm not making the wrong choice."
Alva glanced at her, voice calm. "You're not. You're just choosing yourself, for once. That's not wrong."
Kara smiled faintly, but when she picked up her phone again before bed, the empty screen made her chest tighten all over again.