caitlyn's office always smelled faintly of old books and chamomile tea. the kind of scent that softened the sharpness of school life, especially on days like this—gray-skied, soaked through, and dragging. the late afternoon rain drummed softly against the classroom windows, blurring the world beyond. caitlyn sat behind her desk, her hands folded over a well-worn copy of wuthering heights. across from her, her student lola sat silently, eyes fixed on the fading light outside.

“your mind lying to you doesn’t make you weak,” caitlyn said gently. “it just means you’re exhausted. that's what pain does. it wears us down until we start believing it’s telling the truth.”

lola blinked hard, nodding, but didn’t speak. she didn’t have to. caitlyn recognized that kind of quiet. she'd lived it.

she was living it.

then came a knock at the door—three soft, hesitant taps.

caitlyn's breath caught.

“we're busy,” she called without looking up.

“sorry,” vi's voice came through the door, muffled but tense. “it's... i just—can i talk to you for a sec?”

caitlyn didn’t answer right away. just stared at the door her ex-wife stood behind like she was some ghost that had barged into the wrong memory. “no, i'm busy.”

caitlyn directed her gaze back at lola, who was packing up. “thank you miss kiramman, i'll, um, email you...”

she was gone before caitlyn could stop her. and now vi, her ex-wife, stood in the doorway?

“what do you want?” caitlyn said sharply. she didn't even look at vi.