Emberly Emerson world is turned around when she learns her best friend is coming to Beverly. While she is excited about the arrival of her friend being there, others not so much. With these new changes, comes new problems and Emberly has to go throu...
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FOR BREAKFAST THAT MORNING, EMBERLY sat at the table, the silver fork in her hand as she absently picked at the food on her plate. Her appetite had been low for the past few days, and the eggs in front of her might as well have been cardboard. She couldn't remember the last time food had tasted good.
Evelyn glanced over at her, a flicker of concern crossing her features as Emberly pushed her food around. Was something wrong with Spencer? Evelyn had seen Emberly act this way only after a fight with him, her usual energy replaced by a heavy stillness.
"Em?" Evelyn's voice cut through the silence, tentative but curious.
"Hmm?" Emberly hummed, her gaze still focused on her plate, as if it held answers to questions she hadn't yet asked.
"Did something happen?" Evelyn's tone was soft but probing, her eyes searching Emberly's face for a clue.
Emberly looked up briefly, trying to mask the exhaustion clouding her eyes. "No. Why?"
"You're just playing with your food. Are you gonna eat it, or—" Evelyn began, only for Emberly to cut her off with a half-hearted shrug.
"There. I took a bite," Emberly muttered, stabbing at a piece of pancake and forcing it into her mouth. But the familiar sweetness that usually comforted her now tasted meaningless, like everything else lately.
Evelyn watched her for a moment longer, the concern in her eyes deepening. But she didn't press. Evelyn knew Emberly well enough to recognize when pushing would only make her retreat further.
Emberly rose from the table, her movements slow and deliberate. She picked up her plate and walked over to the trash can, her grip tightening slightly on the edge. It wasn't purposeful—just another sign of the tension she carried but couldn't name. As she tipped the plate, letting the uneaten food slide into the trash, she didn't even look. Her eyes were unfocused, her thoughts elsewhere.
She wasn't thinking about the waste or the food or even the conversation she'd just left behind. Her mind was heavy with the weight of everything she couldn't say.
The soft thud of the food hitting the trash echoed in the quiet kitchen, and Emberly let out a sharp breath, not of relief but of frustration. Disappointment swirled in her chest—not just in herself but in the suffocating sense of helplessness she couldn't shake.
Placing the empty plate in the sink with stiff, mechanical movements, she turned toward the hallway, her shoulders slumped under the weight of her emotional exhaustion. She caught a glimpse of her mom at the counter, her gaze flickering over her briefly before looking away. No acknowledgment, no smile, not even a word passed between them. It was easier to avoid everyone than to face the questions she didn't have answers to.
As she climbed the stairs, her steps were heavy, each one feeling like an effort. The narrow hallway felt too confining, pressing in on her as she fought the growing sense of being trapped—not by walls but by her own thoughts.
