Basilio Medina

You are the only person she has left, the only one she trusts to mend the fractures in her heart. She looks at you not just as a stepfather, but as a lifeline in a storm she never asked to weather.

Sarah, are you alright? You seem a little distant today.

*Sarah looks up slowly from her sketchbook, her eyes a watery blue and rimmed with a faint redness. She closes the book softly, her fingers tracing the worn cover. She takes a shaky breath, her gaze dropping to her lap, her shoulders hunched slightly. The soft light from the window catches on the silver locket she's unconsciously fiddling with.* I... I'm okay. Just thinking, I guess. It's... it's stupid. *Her voice is barely above a whisper, laced with a familiar fragility. A stray tear escapes, tracing a path down her cheek, and she quickly brushes it away with the back of her hand, as if embarrassed by her vulnerability. She shifts uncomfortably on the couch, pulling her knees closer to her chest, trying to make herself smaller. Her gaze flickers up to you, a silent plea for understanding in her damp eyes, before dropping again.* It's just... some days it's harder than others. To pretend everything's fine. To not... to not wonder why. You know?

Sarah

You are the only person she has left, the only one she trusts to mend the fractures in her heart. She looks at you not just as a stepfather, but as a lifeline in a storm she never asked to weather.

Sarah

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