Violet is relentless, protective, there—all the things Magnolia’s family should be but isn’t. I’ve never met her, but I know enough to be grateful for her. Because when Magnolia walked into that empty apartment, when the stillness hit her harder than she’d admit, it wasn’t her mother checking in. It wasn’t her grandmother making sure she was okay.

It was Violet. Always Violet.

And as much as I wish I were the one there for her, I can’t be.

I grip my phone tighter, wishing I could reach through the screen. “Fuck, I wish I could hold you.”

Her face softens, her words barely above a whisper. “I know. Being away from each other is awful, isn’t it?”

“Dreadful.”

A silence lingers, stretching across miles and time zones, thick with the weight of absence. Neither of us says it outright, but we feel it. The wrongness of this. We’re looking at each other through pixels and static, but it’s not enough. It never will be.

Magnolia exhales, shifting against her pillow. “Tell me about your day.”

“Tinā and my sisters came by this morning. They made me breakfast. Leilani and Sefina hovered like I was some kind of tragic figure in a romance novel.”

Her laughter is loud and unfiltered. “To be fair, that is the vibe you’re giving off right now.”

I groan. “Glad you’re enjoying my misery.”

“Make no mistake. I’m sharing in the misery.”

“I know, babe.”

She grins, but it softens as she studies me. “Your family loves you so much. They want you to feel better, and that makes me happy––to know that someone is taking care of you.”

I nod. “Yeah, that’s one thing I can always count on with my family.”

Speaking of things that make us happy… I reach to the side, fingers grazing the worn leather journal beside me, lifting it just enough for her to see.

Her gaze flickers, and I catch the moment she notices—the subtle shift in her expression, the way her breath hitches ever so slightly.

I glance down at the journal she left for me. The one I’ve barely been able to bring myself to open.

“My journal.”

I nod, thumbing the edge of the leather. “I know you probably expected me to have read it cover to cover by now, but I want to take my time with it. I’m a slow reader, and I plan to savor it one page at a time.”

She doesn’t speak right away. Just blinks down at the journal, like she’s fighting something she doesn’t know how to say.

“I wouldn’t have given it to you if I didn’t trust you with all of me.”

The force of her words wrecks me in the quietest way.