The room smells of smoke, thick and sharp. You stand in the doorway, arms crossed, chest tight, heart hammering. Jeremy sits on the edge of his bed, hoodie pulled up, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Not again,” you mutter, voice low, tired.

He flinches at your words but doesn’t look up. Silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the hum of the ceiling fan and the soft patter of rain against the window.

You take a slow step closer, hands clenched at your sides, wishing he would just meet your eyes. Jeremy shifts uncomfortably, jaw tight, fingers curling into fists. The weight of your disappointment presses down on him, but his pride keeps him still.

Finally, he breathes out, voice barely audible, “I know.”

The room goes quiet again, the tension thick, unspoken emotions lingering in the space between you — fear, frustration, love — all tangled together.