Miles finds him­self stand­ing at a cross­roads, over­whelmed by emo­tions as he grap­ples with the weight of his broth­er Wynton’s coma. The guilt and sor­row that have tak­en hold of him feel suf­fo­cat­ing, push­ing him into a state of detach­ment from those around him. Sit­ting under the shade of a sprawl­ing wil­low tree, he finds tem­po­rary solace in the silent com­pan­ion­ship of his dog, San­dro, the only pres­ence that seems to tru­ly under­stand him. The weight of Wynton’s absence is heavy, and Miles is haunt­ed by the thought that he might nev­er have the chance to make amends. His mind drifts to Cas­sidy, a girl he believes could offer some form of sal­va­tion, though he isn’t sure whether it is for him­self or his broth­er. The uncer­tain­ty of the future press­es in, mak­ing every pass­ing sec­ond feel unbear­ably long.

San­dro, with his unwa­ver­ing loy­al­ty, picks up on Miles’s dis­tress and nudges him with qui­et encour­age­ment, as if to sug­gest that seek­ing help isn’t a sign of weak­ness. The thought of ther­a­py or med­ica­tion lingers in his mind, but the stig­ma and his own stub­born­ness keep him from acknowl­edg­ing that he might need it. He is remind­ed of his con­ver­sa­tion with Dean Richards, who had con­front­ed him about his slip­ping aca­d­e­m­ic per­for­mance and lack of social engage­ment. The words had stung, but the truth was undeniable—Miles had lost him­self in his grief, allow­ing it to con­sume every part of his exis­tence. The heav­i­ness of his fam­i­ly’s sor­row only adds to his feel­ings of alien­ation, mak­ing it dif­fi­cult to see a path for­ward. He won­ders how things might have been dif­fer­ent if he had made bet­ter choic­es, if he had paid clos­er atten­tion to the signs before Wyn­ton’s acci­dent.

As he sifts through his frag­ment­ed thoughts, mem­o­ries of the past resur­face, par­tic­u­lar­ly the reck­less night that led to his brother’s down­fall. He remem­bers the par­ty, the poor deci­sions, the reck­less fun that quick­ly spi­raled into chaos. Wyn­ton had stepped in for him, tak­ing respon­si­bil­i­ty when things got out of con­trol, ulti­mate­ly sac­ri­fic­ing his own future in the process. Learn­ing that his broth­er had spent a night in jail for his mis­takes makes Miles’s stom­ach churn with guilt, fur­ther deep­en­ing his self-hatred. The knowl­edge that Wyn­ton had always been there for him, even at his own expense, is almost too much to bear. The thought of fac­ing his comatose broth­er now feels impos­si­ble, like a con­fronta­tion he is too much of a cow­ard to endure.

Des­per­ate for an escape, Miles turns to Lookn, a dat­ing app, hop­ing that a fleet­ing con­nec­tion might pro­vide some relief from the storm in his mind. He match­es with a guy named Rod, who offers the promise of dis­trac­tion, if noth­ing else. How­ev­er, before he can ful­ly process the sit­u­a­tion, his plans take an unex­pect­ed turn when Felix, an eccen­tric and ener­getic stranger, bursts onto the scene. Felix inter­venes in a way that is both chaot­ic and odd­ly reas­sur­ing, dis­rupt­ing Miles’s care­ful­ly con­struct­ed walls of soli­tude. There is some­thing about Felix that imme­di­ate­ly draws Miles in, an effort­less con­fi­dence that feels mag­net­ic in con­trast to his own spi­ral­ing thoughts. Despite his ini­tial hes­i­ta­tion, Miles finds him­self caught in Felix’s orbit, unable to resist the allure of this unpre­dictable force.

Felix’s light­heart­ed nature clash­es against the weight of Miles’s inner tur­moil, yet some­how, it offers him a brief reprieve. Their ban­ter is effort­less, a rhythm that feels nat­ur­al in a way Miles hasn’t expe­ri­enced in a long time. Felix’s sto­ries of trav­el and adven­ture intrigue him, stir­ring a long­ing for some­thing beyond the pain that has anchored him in place. As they walk deep­er into the woods, the bound­aries between past regrets and future pos­si­bil­i­ties begin to blur. For the first time in what feels like for­ev­er, Miles allows him­self to enter­tain the thought that per­haps he isn’t entire­ly alone in this world. Felix’s pres­ence, how­ev­er unex­pect­ed, plants the small­est seed of hope with­in him—a glim­mer of some­thing he isn’t ready to name just yet.