Broken homes

Cracks in the Surface

The day of finals had finally arrived, and the entire school was buzzing with tension. Students filled the hallways, clutching textbooks and muttering last-minute facts under their breath.

Lily sat in her usual seat in Mr. Feeny's class, legs crossed, a pen twirling between her fingers. She looked put together—her outfit pristine, her hair styled to perfection—but inside, she felt like she was about to explode.

Across the room, Shawn stole glances at her. He hated this. The distance. The silence. The fact that she acted like he didn't exist.

"Alright, class," Mr. Feeny's voice broke through the tension. "Your exams are on your desks. No talking, no looking around, and if I catch anyone cheating, you'll receive an automatic zero. Understood?"

A collective sigh ran through the room as students flipped over their papers.

Lily stared at hers. The words blurred together. Her mind was everywhere except here.

Shawn glanced up and caught the way her fingers were gripping her pen a little too tightly.

Twenty minutes in, Lily dropped her pen. The small clink echoed in the silent room. She let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through her hair.

"Miss Dawson," Mr. Feeny's voice was calm but firm. "Is there a problem?"

Lily clenched her jaw. "No."

She grabbed her pen and forced herself to focus.

But Shawn could tell—she was not okay.

Lunch Break

Lily barely touched her food.

She and Nate sat at their usual spot outside, away from the crowded cafeteria.

"You good?" Nate asked, nudging her lightly.

She forced a smile. "Totally."

He didn't look convinced. "Lily..."

"Don't," she cut him off. "I'm fine."

Across the yard, Shawn sat with Cory, Topanga, and Angela. But his attention wasn't on them—it was on her.

"You know, staring at her won't fix anything," Angela said, raising an eyebrow.

Shawn sighed. "She's acting like I don't exist."

Cory rolled his eyes. "Gee, I wonder why."

Shawn shot him a look. "Not helping."

Topanga crossed her arms. "Look, if you really care, maybe stop talking about her and actually talk to her."

Shawn groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, because that's gonna go well."

Angela smirked. "You won't know unless you try."

And Shawn hated that she was right.

Later That Day

Lily made it home, throwing her bag onto her bed.

She felt exhausted, drained, and yet—her mind wouldn't shut up.

She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, eyes landing on a half-full bottle of wine.

She stared at it.

Her mother's voice rang in her head.

"Just one drink, Lily. It helps take the edge off."

Her fingers twitched.

And then—

A knock at her window.

Lily turned, heart racing.

Shawn.

She hesitated, then walked over and unlocked it.

Shawn climbed in, landing on his feet. "Do rich people ever use doors?"

Lily folded her arms. "What do you want, Shawn?"

He sighed, stepping closer. "I want you to talk to me."

She scoffed. "We are talking."

"You know what I mean," he said, his voice serious now.

Lily looked away. "I don't have time for this."

He ran a hand down his face. "Lily... come on."

She finally met his eyes, and for the first time in weeks, he saw it.

The hurt. The exhaustion. The everything she had been holding in.

And suddenly, the fight didn't matter.

He reached for her hand.

"Talk to me," he whispered.

Lily swallowed hard, her walls threatening to break.

But before she could say anything—

The front door slammed.

Her father was home.

And he was angry.

Shawn tensed.

Lily took a shaky breath.

"Shawn... you need to go."

But Shawn wasn't going anywhere.