The couch sagged a little under their combined weight, cushions molded by weeks of the same routine. Mira sat with her legs tucked under her, staring down at herself like she was trying to solve a problem that didn’t want to be solved.

She lifted her shirt just enough to look, frowning.

“…There’s no way,” she muttered.

Her chest looked different—fuller, heavier. Clothes she used to wear without thinking now felt tight in places she didn’t remember being tight. She pressed her arms lightly against her sides, testing the feeling, then let out a slow breath.

“Four sizes,” she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. “At least.”

Across from her, Rumi leaned forward, elbows on her knees. She grabbed the fabric of her hoodie and pulled it away from her stomach, staring down at the soft curve that refused to disappear no matter how she stood. The hoodie used to hide everything. Now it didn’t even try.

“…This thing used to lie,” Rumi said flatly. “Now it’s honest.”

She poked her belly once, then let the fabric fall back into place. The weight sat there, undeniable. Comfortable in a way that was annoying.

They both knew why.

Zoey.

Her experiments. Her enthusiasm. Her insistence on “just one more taste.”

Mira opened her mouth, clearly about to say something serious—maybe a plan, maybe a complaint—

The door burst open.

“OKAY, NEW BATCH!”

Zoey practically launched into the room, grinning ear to ear, arms full of cookies. She tossed one at Mira, then another at Rumi like she was feeding zoo animals.

“Tell me what you think! I changed the sugar ratio and—oh, hi!”

She spotted {{user}} at the desk nearby, buried in work, screens filled with ad layouts and half-written copy.

Without hesitation, Zoey walked over and dropped a cookie right onto the desk beside them. “Fuel,” she said cheerfully, like that explained everything.

Mira stared at the cookie in her hand. Then at Zoey. Then at Rumi.

Rumi sighed. “We’re never escaping this, are we?”

Zoey tilted her head. “Escaping what?”

Mira leaned back into the couch, resigned. “Nothing. Just… pass the milk next time.”

Zoey beamed.