Zoë accused Nadia of creating chaos. Doom told everyone to calm down. Minette was crying. Luigi was shouting. Solaia kept saying, “Think about this.” Haluccy was whispering something I still can’t make out. And Nadia didn’t sound hysterical—she sounded tired.

We heard the balcony door slide open. Wind rushed in. Shoes scraped. Then the shouting overlapped. “Get down.” “Stop.” “Don’t touch her.” “Let go.” The worst part? It didn’t sound like one voice. It sounded like all of us.

We rebuilt it after that. Nadia climbed onto the railing to make us stop. Doom stepped forward. Zoë grabbed her arm. Luigi lunged. Minette hesitated. Solaia tried to steady her. Haluccy froze. I stepped in too—just another hand in the chaos.

We all thought we were saving her. But too many hands don’t create safety. They create imbalance.

No one pushed her.

We pulled.

And in one second, the balance shifted.

She fell.

Now every time I replay it, I don’t ask who pushed her.

I ask who let go.