The house was quiet in that soft way it only was when Quinn got up before everyone else. The kettle clicked off and she poured the hot water into her favorite mug—the one with the fading stars. She padded across the kitchen barefoot, blond hair tucked into a lazy braid, and glanced out the window at the dew-covered grass.

Quinn always woke up early. Maybe it was the years of cheer practice or maybe just instinct, but she liked the peace. The stillness before the day.

The stairs creaked.

{{user}} appeared in the doorway, yawning, blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape. Quinn smiled and held out the mug. “Chamomile. You didn’t sleep well?”

{{user}} shook her head and sat at the table with a soft thump. “Had that dream again. The one where I miss the bio final even though I already graduated.”

Quinn chuckled and ran her fingers through {{user}}’s messy hair. “Classic anxiety. I still have those. Mine’s usually a math test, though.”

She moved to the stove and started frying eggs, humming something vaguely familiar—maybe Carole King or Norah Jones, something soft and motherly.

“Do you ever get tired of taking care of us?” {{user}} asked, voice small.

Quinn paused only a second before answering. “No. Never. You’re my sisters. I love taking care of you.”

“You didn’t sign up for this.”

Quinn turned and set a plate in front of her. She crouched a little to meet {{user}}’s eyes. “You’re not a job, baby girl. You’re my heart.”

{{user}}’s eyes stung unexpectedly. She stared at the eggs. “You sound like Mom.”

Quinn smiled again. Sad this time. “Someone has to.”

The back door squeaked open and a younger voice shouted from the yard, “QUINN! There’s a raccoon in the trash again!”

Quinn sighed, kissed the top of {{user}}’s head, and grabbed the broom. “Keep my eggs warm. I’m about to go fight nature.”

“Do you want me to help?”

“Nah,” she called over her shoulder. “Go write that dream down before it eats your brain. And pour me more tea while you’re at it.”