I shuffle out of the bathroom in clean pajamas with wet hair clinging to my shoulders. The steam did something to my brain—shook a few cobwebs loose. I’m still hollow and exhausted but less like a ghost.

Violet’s in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, standing over my panini press like it’s a power tool. The aroma of melted cheese and toasted bread fills the air as she glances over her shoulder, a relieved expression on her face as I pad in on bare feet.

“Well, look who survived basic hygiene.”

I grunt something that might be a thank-you and sink onto the barstool, pulling my knees up to my chest.

She plates a grilled cheese cut into two triangles, sliding it in front of me. “With Wickles pickles, the way you like it. Eat.”

My stomach twists at the sight of food. “I’m not hungry.”

She crosses her arms. “Well, I don’t give a damn. You’re eating it anyway. You look like someone photoshopped your body smaller and forgot to adjust your head.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She points at the plate. “Chew. Swallow. Repeat. That’s how it’s done.”

With a sigh, I pick up half the sandwich and take a bite. My stomach clenches like it’s not sure what to do with actual food, but the buttery crunch hits my taste buds and something in me stirs.

“Good girl,” Violet says.

I chew, forcing down another bite. Then another.

She stands across from me, watching with those sharp eyes of hers. “You’ve lost too much weight.”

I shrug. “Breakup diets work.”

“Breakup spirals don’t. You scared the shit out of me.”

My eyes fall to the half-eaten sandwich on my plate, my fingers curling around the crust. “I think I was born with a broken heart, like there’s something in me that’s always going to be cracked.”

Violet doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t give me pity eyes or rush to fill the silence. She watches me for a beat and leans in with something softer in her eyes. Something fierce. “Possibly, but you were also born with teeth.”

I blink at her, confused.

“You were born tough. Even when you don’t want to be. Even when it hurts. That heart of yours might’ve come with fractures, but it also came with fire. And you’re still here. That counts for something.”

“I’m not sure how to stop hurting like this.”

Violet reaches across the counter, her voice gentler than it’s been all day. “Maybe today isn’t about not hurting. Let’s shoot for… feeling different.”

I swallow hard, blinking against the sting in my eyes. “How?”

She looks thoughtful for a moment. “Start by doing the thing that always makes you happy.”

I furrow my brow. “Work?”