Carla steps into her apartment, the door clicking softly behind her. The familiar scent of home immediately wraps around her like a warm blanket. Derek is already there, sprawled on the couch with a book in his hands, though his eyes keep darting toward the door, waiting for her.
"you're back late," he says, setting the book aside.
Carla drops her bag by the door, letting out a long sigh. "long night. Not physically, but… emotionally exhausting." She flops onto the couch beside him, curling one leg underneath her.
Derek leans back, studying her. "looks like someone had a rough one."
Carla nods, running a hand over her face. "talking to marilena tonight… it just reminded me how much stuff is out of my control. Social media, christian, all the gossip—it's overwhelming. And it's not even my story."
Derek shifts closer, draping an arm over the back of the couch behind her. "you did what you could. You were there for her. That counts for something. She's lucky to have you."
