The light in Nick's bedroom flickered above his head, casting brief shadows as he yanked the last stack of shirts from the closet. The warm August air filtered through the window, carrying the city noise with it—car horns, barking dogs, and the muffled hum of neighbors' conversations. He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, feeling the humidity cling to his skin like glue. New York was only a few hours away, and the anticipation in his chest should’ve felt liberating.

But it didn’t.

His mom’s voice echoed up the stairs, cutting through his thoughts. “Nick, are you almost done packing?”

He exhaled sharply, dragging his hand down his face. Packing should’ve been the easy part, but the weight on his chest wasn’t from the clothes crammed into his suitcase. It was the favor hanging over him, the one he hadn’t technically agreed to but already felt guilted into doing.

Her footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the soft creak of the wooden stairs. When she appeared in the doorway, she was wearing the tired smile he’d seen too many times—her dark hair pulled into a loose bun, strands escaping like she hadn’t had time to care. The faint lines on her forehead were more prominent than usual, and Nick knew what was coming before she even opened her mouth.

“Have you thought any more about what we talked about?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe. Her voice was light, casual even, but Nick could hear the undercurrent of concern.

He shoved the shirts into his suitcase with more force than necessary. “I’ve thought about it. I just don’t see why it has to be my problem.”

She sighed, stepping further into the room. “He’s not a problem, Nick. He’s just... alone out there. And his mom is really worried about him. She thinks he might need someone to check in every now and then.”

Nick straightened, finally meeting her gaze. “He’s nineteen, Mom. He’s not a kid.”

“Exactly,” she replied, sitting on the edge of his bed. “He’s nineteen and already been through a lot. I know you’re busy, starting college and everything, but it won’t take much. Just check on him. Make sure he’s doing okay.”

Nick let out a bitter laugh. “So you want me to make sure he’s not falling apart.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t have to say it—Nick already knew that’s exactly what she meant. He raked a hand through his hair, thinking back to the bits and pieces he’d overheard about Riel, the son of his mom’s best friend. A family breakdown, a sudden move to New York. But the details were vague, the whole situation cloaked in the kind of awkward, unspoken tension that left Nick with more questions than answers.

Still, this wasn’t his responsibility.

He yanked the zipper on his suitcase, the sound loud in the small room. “I just don’t get why I have to do it.”

“Because I’m asking you,” she said quietly, placing a hand on his arm. Her brown eyes softened, warmth and concern mingling together. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Nick sighed, the resistance draining out of him. His mom had a way of making him feel guilty without even trying. She wasn’t doing it on purpose, but it worked all the same.

“Fine,” he muttered, grabbing the last few things from his dresser. “I’ll check on him. But don’t expect me to babysit the guy.”

“I’m not asking you to,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “Just make sure he’s okay. You’re going to be in New York anyway. It’s not far out of your way.”

Nick didn’t respond, throwing a pair of shoes into the suitcase and snapping it shut. His mind was already moving elsewhere—to the freedom he’d been craving for months. This was just a small bump in the road, something he could deal with quickly and then forget about.

The train ride to New York felt like a release. Nick pressed his forehead against the cool glass window, watching as the landscape blurred from fields to suburbs, and finally to the looming skyline of the city. It was the escape he’d been waiting for, a chance to carve out something for himself in a place where no one knew him. Plans floated around in his head—explore the campus, meet up with old friends, figure out how to navigate the city without getting lost.

By the time he reached his dorm, the weight of the city pressed down on him. The noise, the heat, the never-ending crowd of people—it all hit him at once. He shoved open the door to his small, bare room and dropped his suitcase onto the bed with a heavy thud.

It wasn’t much. A twin bed, a desk, and a chair shoved in the corner. But it was his.

Nick exhaled slowly, wiping the sweat from his brow as he took in the space. No roommates yet, no one telling him what to do. The freedom was tangible, curling in his chest like a long-awaited breath of fresh air.

Hours passed in a blur of unpacking, walking the campus, and mindless scrolling through his phone. His mom had stayed quiet most of the day—probably busy with her own life back home. Maybe she’d forgotten about Riel, finally.

But just as that thought crossed his mind, his phone buzzed.

Nick groaned, pulling it out of his pocket. He already knew who it was.

Mom: Did you check on Riel yet?

He stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Already? I just got here.

Frustration bubbled up, and he typed a quick response before he could second-guess it:

Nick: Yeah, I checked. No one answered.

It wasn’t technically a lie. He’d check later, probably.

Later that night, after wandering the streets and grabbing a quick bite to eat, Nick returned to his dorm and flopped back onto the bed. The room was dim now, the city lights casting faint shadows through the blinds. His body ached from travel, but his mind refused to settle.

His phone buzzed again.

Nick didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Mom: Are you sure everything’s okay? You didn’t talk to him?

The guilt crept in, wrapping around his chest like a familiar weight. He could lie again, tell her everything was fine, and put this whole thing to rest. But he knew she wouldn’t let it go.

“Damn it,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d go check. For real this time. Then, maybe, he could finally move on with his life.