Jayde sat on the edge of her bed, picking at the edge of her sleeve, waiting. It wasn't often that Simon initiated conversations, let alone ones that hinted at being personal. They hadn't spoken beyond the day-to-day in years, and now here she was, wondering what was going on in his head. Something had shifted, something she hadn't expected.

She stood and paced the small space of her room, feeling the tension build inside her chest. The unease had settled in since Simon had told her he wanted to talk. Really talk. Not the clipped, surface-level exchanges they'd been accustomed to, but something deeper. And that scared her, because if Simon was unraveling, then everything else felt like it might, too.

Jayde heard the faint sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. The quiet creak of the door nudged open, and Simon stepped inside, his posture stiff, as if unsure whether he should even be there.

"Hey," Simon greeted, his voice rougher than usual.

Jayde nodded in response, gesturing for him to take a seat on the worn armchair by the window. He moved carefully, like he didn't quite know how to hold himself, sinking into the chair like it had suddenly become foreign. His hands rested on his knees, fingers twitching as if there were words trapped in his throat, begging to get out.

She didn't know what to say at first, so they sat in silence, the quiet humming between them like a live wire. Finally, Simon spoke.

"I don't..." he trailed off, his gaze flickering to the floor. "I don't know who I am anymore."

Jayde blinked, the words settling heavily between them. Simon, who had always been so sure of himself, who had always followed the rules and kept his head down—that Simon was questioning his own identity?

She tilted her head, watching him carefully. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Simon shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair, "I've always done what's expected. Always played by the rules, right? I've followed the path laid out for me because it's what we're supposed to do. But lately... I don't know if that's enough."

Jayde furrowed her brow, not quite understanding. "Enough for who?"

"For me." His voice was low, almost a whisper, and for a moment, she thought she heard the faintest tremor in it. "I've always been so sure of what's right. The Regime—it's built on order, and order is how we survive. We follow the system because it works. It's how we keep things from falling apart."

Simon's words hung heavy in the air, and Jayde sat there, trying to piece together what he was really saying. It didn't sound like he was questioning the system itself—he wasn't challenging the Regime. He was questioning himself. His place in the grand design of it all.

"You've always done what's right," Jayde said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "At least, that's what I've always thought. You're the one who's always tried to protect me, even when you didn't need to. You made sure I followed the rules, that I stayed safe."

He winced, his jaw tightening as though the words were more of a burden than a comfort. "Yeah... I thought I was doing what was right too. But what if... what if that's not enough anymore?"

Jayde leaned forward, trying to catch his gaze. "What are you talking about, Simon? You've always done what's right, morally speaking. Isn't that enough?"

He flinched at the word "morally," his eyes narrowing for a brief second, before softening into something closer to confusion. "But right for who, Jayde? Morality and order don't always line up. Sometimes... sometimes it feels like there's more expected of me. Like I have to be more useful. The Chancellor's made it clear that we have to... adapt, evolve."

Jayde frowned, her stomach twisting. "Adapt how? What's the Chancellor asking you to do?"Simon's lips pressed into a thin line, and he didn't answer her question. Instead, he let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging. "Forget it. It's not about that. It's just... I don't know who I am outside of what I've been told to do. Without the Regime telling me where to go, what to think, who am I?"

His words struck a chord in Jayde's chest. She had never heard him speak like this before, as though he were crumbling from the inside out. Simon had always been the strong one, the reliable one, the one who didn't question anything. But now, it was as if the foundation he had built his life on was starting to crack.

"Simon..." she started, her voice soft, hesitant, "you've always been my brother. You've always been someone I looked up to, even when things got hard. You stood up for what you believed in, for what you thought was right."

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "I'm not sure that's enough anymore, Jayde. I thought I knew what right looked like. Now, I'm not so sure."

They both fell silent again, the weight of Simon's words hanging between them like a fog. Jayde could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, the confusion and fear he tried so hard to keep hidden. And for the first time, she saw him not as the brother who always had the answers, but as someone who was just as lost as she was.

But then, something shifted. The air in the room thickened, and Jayde felt the conversation steering toward a place she wasn't sure she was ready for.

"I mean, do you ever think about Dad?" she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.

Simon's reaction was instant. His entire body tensed, his eyes flashing with something she couldn't quite place. Anger? Fear? Whatever it was, it was raw, unfiltered, and it made him jerk back like she had struck him.

"Dad's gone," Simon said harshly, his voice cutting through the room like a knife. "He's not coming back, and we don't need to keep talking about him."

Jayde's heart clenched, and she could feel the walls between them rising again, thicker than before. She hadn't meant to push, but the words had slipped out, and now they hung there, heavy and unspoken.

"But—" she started.

"Just stop," Simon said, his voice tight, strained. "I don't want to talk about him. He's gone. That's it."

Jayde swallowed hard, nodding slowly. She could see the flicker of fear in his eyes, the way his hands clenched into fists as if trying to hold something back. There was more to it, she could feel it. But Simon wasn't ready to let her in. Not yet.

They sat in silence for a few moments longer, the tension thick between them, before Simon finally stood up. He avoided her gaze, his jaw clenched tight.

"I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath before walking out of the room.

Jayde watched him go, her heart heavy with all the things left unsaid. She wanted to help him, wanted to reach out and tell him that he wasn't alone in this. But Simon was closed off, locked inside his own mind, and she didn't know how to reach him.

After a few moments, Jayde let out a slow breath, standing up from her bed and walking over to the window. The night was still outside, the stars twinkling faintly in the distance.

She had no idea what Simon was going through, but whatever it was, it was bigger than she could understand right now. And the worst part was, she had no idea how to help him.With a sigh, she turned away from the window and slipped under her blankets, the weight of the conversation lingering in her mind.

As she closed her eyes, exhaustion finally pulling at her, something strange happened. For the first time in her life, Jayde dreamed.

It was vivid, like stepping into another world. The colors were sharp and vibrant, unlike anything she had ever seen before. She stood in a field of flowers, the scent of something sweet filling the air. The sky above her was painted in hues of deep purples and golds, the clouds swirling like they were alive.

And in the distance, she saw a figure—tall, familiar.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she recognized him.

Her father.

But before she could call out, before she could run toward him, the dream shifted, dissolving into nothingness.

And then, Jayde woke up, her heart pounding in her chest. The memory of the dream clung to her like a wisp of smoke, fleeting but haunting.

For the first time in a long time, she felt something stir inside her—something she couldn't quite name, but knew was important.

And for the first time, she wondered what it all meant.