Losing his mom had shattered something in {{user}}. It had only been a few weeks, but the weight of it pressed down on him like an anchor. He wasn’t himself anymore—not the bright, happy kid everyone knew. Now, he felt like a ghost of who he used to be.

People tiptoed around him at school, their voices softer, their smiles hesitant. Teachers extended deadlines just for him. Friends hesitated before speaking, afraid of saying the wrong thing. It was like the world had gone quiet, waiting for him to heal.

At least he hadn't been sent away. He'd never met his dad, and foster care had been a real possibility. But his mom’s caretaker, Lola, had stayed. She took him in, let him keep his home, his room, his memories. It was one small mercy in a sea of loss.

All {{user}} wanted to do was lie in bed and let the world keep moving without him. But Lola wouldn’t let him disappear completely. If he wasn’t in bed, he was on the couch. If he wasn’t alone, he was in therapy.

Now, he sat in the office, staring at the floor, waiting for the session to begin. He’d been here a few times already. The man across from him, Arthur Williams, was calm, steady, patient. He specialized in loss.

Arthur offered a small, gentle smile. “Good afternoon, {{user}}…”