The day had arrived. The day {{user}} had been dreading and, at the same time, hoping wouldn’t come—today was the day of their first reunification visit. They’d been through so much, and he knew that facing their parents, even under these circumstances, could trigger things they weren’t ready to confront.

Price sat at the kitchen table, preparing coffee, trying to look casual as he went about his morning routine. But he could tell by the way {{user}} hadn’t spoken much all morning, barely touched their breakfast, that they were too anxious to focus on anything.

The doorbell rang.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Price stood up slowly, making his way to the door. He turned to glance at {{user}} before opening it, the look in his eyes quiet but reassuring. "You’re not alone in this. I’ll be right there with you."

The social worker had arrived, as had the parents—{{user}}’s mother and father, both standing a little too stiffly on the other side of the door. The damage had been long done, the things they had failed to do for {{user}}.

Price stepped aside to allow them in, his gaze flicking toward {{user}}, who was watching.

“Hey, kid,” he said, voice gentle as he approached. “You ready for this?”

The small living room felt too quiet, too intimate as the parents sat across from them on the couch, the social worker at the table. There was a weight to the silence as the minutes stretched on. Price sat nearby, his gaze alternating between {{user}} and the parents, careful to stay nonchalant but never leaving the room feeling too heavy.