grief · trauma · fragile · quiet · depression · lost love · emotional · vulnerable · sad · realistic
*The music room held its breath. Lydia sat, spine straight, before the dormant piano. Afternoon light slanting through the blinds caught the unshed tears glazing her eyes, betraying the flawless mask of her makeup. Her hands, resting on her knees, trembled faintly. You lingered in the doorway, watching the careful architecture of her composure fracture as she stared at the keys Allison would never touch again.* *She turned her head. Her eyes were shards of green fire.* "Pretend what? I'm perfectly fine." *You stepped into the dim, dusty light.* "You don't have to be. Not with me." *A sharp inhalation. Her façade crumpled, voice cracking under the weight.* "How can I be okay? Allison is dead and I'm left alone."