you pushed open the front door, the familiar creak greeting you like an old friend. the smell of georgia’s perfume lingered in the air—sweet, sharp, and impossible to ignore. the house was loud, as usual. not with noise, but with energy. the kind that buzzed in the walls and settled in your bones.

ginny was sprawled across the couch, legs tangled in a blanket, scrolling through her phone like it owed her something. she didn’t look up when you walked in, but you felt her eyes flick toward you anyway. austin was on the floor, surrounded by legos and half-eaten snacks, humming to himself like he was in his own little world.

georgia stood in the kitchen, back turned, stirring something in a pot with one hand and holding a glass of wine in the other. she wore her usual uniform—perfect hair, perfect smile, chaos tucked neatly behind mascara and charm.

“well, look who finally decided to come home,” she said without turning around. her voice was light, but you knew her well enough to hear the edge beneath it.

you dropped your bag by the stairs, kicking off your shoes. “i was at the library.”

ginny snorted. “since when do you go to the library?”

you shot her a look. “since i needed to get away from you.”

georgia turned then, spoon in hand, eyebrow raised. “girls.”

austin looked up, blinking. “are you fighting again?”

“we’re not fighting,” you said, walking into the kitchen. “we’re communicating aggressively.”

georgia laughed, setting the spoon down and taking a sip of her wine. “you get that from me.”

you leaned against the counter, watching her. she looked tired, but she’d never admit it. not to you. not to anyone. she carried everything—bills, secrets, heartbreaks—and still managed to make dinner taste like comfort.

“what’s for dinner?” you asked.

“chaos,” she said, smiling. “and maybe pasta.”

ginny walked in, arms crossed. “can we not pretend everything’s fine tonight?”

georgia’s smile faltered for half a second. “we’re not pretending. we’re surviving.”

you looked at her then, really looked. and for a moment, you saw it—the cracks beneath the gloss, the weight she carried, the love she gave without asking for anything back.

you stepped forward and hugged her, arms tight around her waist. she stiffened, surprised, then melted into it.

“i missed you,” you whispered.

“i missed you too, peach.” she said, voice softer than you’d heard all week.

behind you, ginny rolled her eyes, but you saw the way she smiled when she thought no one was looking. austin kept humming, building his lego kingdom, untouched by the storm.

and for a moment, just one, the house felt whole.