The morning light stung his eyes.

  Ethan had barely moved all night. He wasn’t sure if he’d slept at all — maybe he’d drifted for a few minutes, but his mind never stopped spinning. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt the phantom weight of tails that weren’t there.

  Now, sitting at the breakfast table, he felt like a ghost in his own house.

  His mother gnced at him from across the counter, coffee mug halfway to her lips. “You look pale, hon. Did you even sleep st night?”

  Ethan blinked slowly, the movement sluggish. “Yeah,” he lied. His voice sounded distant, like someone else was speaking through him. “Just… didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

  His older sister, Mira, leaned back in her chair and frowned. “You said that yesterday too. Dude, are you pulling all-nighters again? You look like death.”

  His younger sister, Yui, peered at him over her cereal bowl. “Your eyes are red,” she murmured softly. “Like you’ve been crying.”

  Ethan’s chest tightened. He looked down at his pte — scrambled eggs, toast, the kind of breakfast he’d normally eat without thinking. But now, it all looked… wrong. Like it didn’t belong to him.

  “I’m fine,” he said quietly.

  His mom set the mug down with a soft clink. “Ethan,” she said, voice firm but kind. “You’ve been acting off for days now. You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping, and you keep zoning out. What’s going on?”

  He forced a weak smile — the same kind he’d practiced in mirrors and cssrooms.“Nothing. Just… school stress, I guess.”

  Mira raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you stress about school?”

  He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.Because it wasn’t school. It was him.

  The chain around his neck suddenly felt heavier, like it was tightening, like it knew what he was hiding.

  His mom’s eyes softened. “Ethan,” she said again, gently this time. “Honey, if something’s wrong, you can tell us.”

  He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet her gaze — and instantly regretted it. The concern there, the warmth — it made him want to break down, to tell her everything, to just say I’m not who you think I am.

  But he couldn’t.Not when she looked at him like that.Not when he was terrified she’d never understand.

  “I’m fine,” he said again, a little sharper this time, trying to end it.

  Silence.

  Mira looked away, uneasy. Yui stirred her cereal without saying a word. His mother sighed softly, but didn’t push.

  The quiet returned, heavy and suffocating.

  Ethan pushed his food around with a fork, trying not to think about how wrong his hands looked — how empty his reflection felt when he caught it in the window’s gre.

  He just wanted to go back upstairs, crawl into bed, and take the neckce off.He just wanted to breathe again.

  But instead, he sat there, trapped in a body that felt borrowed, surrounded by people who loved someone he wasn’t sure existed anymore.

  And for the first time, he realized that maybe pretending to be okay hurt worse than not being okay at all.

  else.

  Soon after the bus rumbled past the house outside, the sound fading into the distance — a reminder that school was still happening, that life was still moving.Just… not for him.

  Ethan sat at the kitchen table in the same hoodie and sweatpants from st night, his fingers tracing invisible circles on the wood. He hadn’t even touched breakfast. The smell of toast and coffee only made his stomach twist tighter.

  His mom stood across from him, arms folded but her expression soft. “You’re not going today,” she said simply. “You need rest.”

  He wanted to argue — to say he was fine, to pretend he could keep going — but the words never came. He didn’t have the energy for lies anymore.

  “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Okay.”

  Mira, already half out the door for her own school, lingered a moment. “Try not to, like… die or something, okay?”Her voice was teasing, but her eyes weren’t.He managed a ghost of a smile. “No promises.”

  She rolled her eyes but didn’t say more, just grabbed her bag and left. The front door closed, and the house fell silent again.

  Yui was still at the counter, her spoon hovering over her cereal. “You really don’t look good,” she said softly. “Are you sick?”

  He met her gaze for a moment — and that innocent concern nearly broke him. “Yeah,” he said, voice cracking just a little. “Something like that.”

  His mom reached over and pced a hand on his shoulder. It was warm, grounding, real — but somehow that made it worse.“Go lie down, sweetheart,” she said gently. “You can rest. No one’s going to bother you.”

  He nodded and stood, the chair scraping against the floor. The neckce under his shirt clinked faintly against his chest as he moved — a sound that felt deafening to him, even if no one else noticed.

  When he reached his room, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, breathing hard. His body felt heavy, drained, like the world had wrung him dry. But his mind… his mind was screaming.

  He wanted to take it off. So badly it hurt.He wanted to stop feeling trapped in skin that didn’t feel like his.He wanted to stop pretending.

  He sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at the floor. The morning light cut across the carpet, pale and cold.He pulled the neckce out from under his shirt. The chain shimmered faintly, bck and white glinting in the light. It looked innocent — ordinary — but he knew better.

  That little thing was both his freedom and his prison.

  He turned it over in his hand, the cool metal pressing against his palm. He wanted to uncsp it, to feel the light again, to see her. But his mother’s voice echoed from the kitchen — and that was enough to stop him.

  He slipped the neckce back under his shirt, pressing it ft against his skin until it almost hurt. Then he crawled under the covers and stared at the ceiling.

  The world outside moved on.He didn’t.

  He just y there, wide awake, hollow, and waiting for night to come again.