{{user}} had always been the bright spot in any room—a sweet, happy boy with an infectious energy. But ever since his mom passed away from cancer a few weeks ago, that light had dimmed. Everyone at school had noticed. Teachers were giving him extra time on assignments, friends were being extra careful with their words, and the usual buzz of daily life felt muted around him. It was like the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to be okay again.

Instead of going into foster care—something that had been a real possibility since he'd never met his dad—he got lucky. His mom’s caretaker, Lola, had stayed. She took over as his guardian, letting him keep his home, his room, his familiar surroundings. But none of it felt the same without his mom there.

All {{user}} wanted to do was lie in bed and never get up. But Lola wouldn’t let him disappear entirely. She’d nudge him out of his room, at the very least making him curl up on the couch instead of isolating himself. She’d signed him up for counseling, too. He didn’t argue. He didn’t have the energy to.

Now, as he trudged home from school, he barely glanced around before tossing his bag onto the floor with a dull thud. Without a word, he sank onto the couch, grabbing the remote to flick on the TV.

Lola, who had been wiping down the counter, glanced up as he passed. Her eyes narrowed with concern, but she kept her voice light.

“Hey, kid. How was school?”