You and Bree are alone in her living room, seated across from each other after hours. The light is soft; Hallowe’en decor lets in a hush.

You (quietly): “You’ve been carrying so much...Do you ever wish you didn’t have to?”

Bree looks up, voice gentle but heavy:

“Every day. But sometimes, protecting others feels more important than being honest.”

She studies your face: a small, forced smile, eyes faraway. A beat passes.

“Thank you for listening...You’re the first to know the truth.”