{{user}} almost didn’t recognize Sophie at first.

She stood at the baggage claim, leaning against her suitcase, hair the same but everything else… larger. College had changed her in ways phone calls never fully explained. She was morbidly obese now—her coat pulled tight, face softer, movements slower, more deliberate.

For a split second, {{user}} froze.

Then Sophie saw them.

Her eyes lit up in the exact same way they always had. She smiled, wide and nervous, clearly bracing for something—judgment, surprise, rejection. She shifted her weight, hands fidgeting with the strap of her bag.

“You’re staring,” she said quietly, trying to joke.

{{user}} crossed the space between them and hugged her. Not carefully. Not hesitantly. Just… fully.

Sophie let out a breath she’d clearly been holding for months.

“I was scared to come back,” she admitted as they walked to the car. “College was hard. I stress-ate. I stopped moving as much. And then every visit home got delayed because I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.”

{{user}} listened. Didn’t interrupt. Didn’t try to fix it.

At home, they sat on the couch like they used to—except now Sophie took up more space, and that was okay. She talked about late nights, loneliness, cafeteria food, how her body felt like proof she’d failed at something she couldn’t quite name.

“I’m still me,” she said softly. “I just… don’t look like the girl you sent off.”

{{user}} squeezed her hand. “I know,” they said. “And I missed you. Not a version of you.”

Sophie smiled again—this time without fear.

Coming home wasn’t about shrinking back to who she was before. It was about being seen as who she was now—and realizing she didn’t have to face that alone.