Anton's POV
I couldn't even recall making it up to my bedroom.
One moment, Mom was ripping into me downstairs in the living room, and the next, I found myself staring at my carpet like it held some kind of roadmap for my life.
Her accusations kept echoing in my skull, relentless and cutting.
You completely missed what was happening to your own sister.
She had a point.
But the way she'd delivered it - like I'd bombed some exam I never knew existed - something inside me just shattered.
I drove my fist straight into the drywall. The impact sent vibrations through the hanging photographs.
"Anton!" Mom's voice boomed from below. "Don't you dare start destroying property!"
But I was already past that point.
I ripped my door open and thundered down the hallway, rage bubbling up wild and uncontrolled.
She remained planted in the living room, her medical scrubs creased, skin ghostly pale from exhaustion.
Ximena was curled up on the couch, her eyes puffy but tearless now.
