Fractures and Foundations

The morning sun bled gold through the bedroom curtains.

Zoe stood in front of the mirror, tugging her hoodie over her head. Her school bag slumped on the floor, half-zipped, textbooks peeking out like restless ghosts. She adjusted the collar, wiped the sleep from her eyes, and breathed deep.

Her chest still buzzed, not from power, but from everything that had unraveled the night before.

She tiptoed down the stairs, the scent of coffee and toast curling into the air. The sound of plates. Of quiet conversation.

When she entered the kitchen, her parents turned toward her.

Troy sat at the table, a mug in his hand. Annie stood by the stove, flipping eggs.

“Morning,” Zoe said, her voice a little too small.

Annie offered a soft smile. “Hey, sweetie. Breakfast’s almost ready.”

Troy’s eyes didn’t soften. “You sleep okay?”

Zoe nodded, then stepped closer.

“I’m sorry. For how I acted yesterday.”