Hanta’s mom opened the door before he even had the chance to knock, her arms wide like she’d been waiting for this moment her whole life. “¡Ay, mijo! So this is the famous {{user}}!” she exclaimed, grabbing {{user}} into a hug that almost lifted them off their feet. Hanta stifled a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as his little cousins swarmed around, shouting and asking a million questions all at once.

“Wait—wait—hold on,” Hanta said, trying to steer {{user}} through the chaos, but his mom had already dragged them toward the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in five minutes… maybe ten!” she shouted over the noise, clearly unconcerned with exact timing. Plates clattered, salsa spilled somewhere, and Hanta’s abuela was giving {{user}} a curious once-over like she was inspecting royalty.

Finally, Hanta tugged {{user}} by the hand. “C’mon, follow me,” he said, leading them upstairs. He pushed open the door to his bedroom and let it shut behind them, the sound cutting through the cacophony downstairs like a sigh of relief.

He leaned against the door, exhaling. “Okay… that’s a little quieter,” he muttered, grinning.