Danielle sat alone in her dimly lit bedroom, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the bedspread as she stared out the small window. The stars were bright tonight, as if mocking her with their distant, unattainable glow. She used to love watching them with her parent, who would point out constellations and tell stories about them. But that was a long time ago, before Gine was born, before everything changed. Danielle clenched her hands, remembering how her world had once revolved around her parent—her hero, her only family. But now, all that felt like a memory from another life.

In school, there had been a big event that evening, and Danielle had spent weeks preparing for it. She’d hoped that maybe, just maybe, her parent would remember and show up, cheering from the front row like they had years ago. Instead, she found herself scanning the crowd and seeing strangers’ faces, none of them the one she longed to see. After the performance, she slipped away from her friends' celebratory chatter, feeling like a ghost wandering through her own life. She didn’t have the heart to go home right away, so she wandered aimlessly through the quiet streets until the chill finally drove her back.

The house was dark when she returned, except for the faint glow under her parent’s door. Danielle paused in the hallway, the silence pressing down on her like a weight. Gine’s laughter and chatter echoed faintly in her mind, memories of her sister being tucked in by her parent, of bedtime stories told with all the warmth that used to be Danielle’s alone. She walked to her own room and closed the door softly, her heart heavy. But the ache inside her didn’t let her rest. Instead, it urged her out of bed in the dead of night, her feet carrying her, almost against her will, back to her parent's door.