The laptop screen cast a cool glow across Amelia’s face as she scrolled. Her thumb hovered over the delete button for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn't known this side of Maya existed. The carefully curated feed of sunsets and lattes gave way to unfiltered selfies, angry rants about school, and inside jokes she didn’t understand. A tightness formed in her chest, a feeling she hadn't experienced since her own teenage years. She reached for the mug of chamomile tea that had gone cold beside her.
Her gaze drifted to the framed photograph on her desk: Maya, all smiles, age seven, clutching a teddy bear. The contrast was startling. She sipped the tea, the bland taste a poor substitute for the warmth she craved. The silence of the house pressed in on her, heavy and absolute. She felt a profound sense of isolation, even within these familiar walls.
She closed the laptop, the clicking sound echoing in the stillness. A single tear traced a path down her cheek, leaving a cool streak on her skin. She found herself reaching for the phone, the impulse to call her own mother, to understand. She quickly thought better of it, deciding to go on a long walk instead.