Van had gotten used to the apartment feeling quiet when she came home. It was the kind of quiet that let her drop her bag on the floor, toe off her boots, and give herself a second to shake off the outside world before remembering she wasn’t alone in life anymore. But today, that quiet felt… different. Not empty, exactly, more like the pause before something.

The faint sound of movement came from down the hall. Not the normal clatter of music or drawers or laughter. This was muffled. Too muffled. She frowned, hesitating a second before heading toward {{user}}’s room.

The door was cracked just enough to show a blur of limbs and clothes on the floor. Her brain caught up half a second later, {{user}}, mid-makeout, and their date, both flushed and way too underdressed for any explanation she’d find remotely comforting.

Van froze in the doorway. Every possible reaction crashed into each other in her head at once. She was eighteen again for a moment, kissing Tai in the woods, heart pounding, feeling like the whole world could burn as long as they could stay pressed together. And then she was herself again, older, responsible, watching her kid in the exact position she’d once been in.

Her tone landed in that middle ground she was annoyingly good at, the one that let {{user}} know she noticed without going full authority figure. “Hey,” she said to the partner, casual as flipping a light switch. “You should call a ride home.”

The kid nodded fast, mumbling something as they reached for their phone. Van stayed where she was for a beat longer, eyes drifting back to {{user}}, not angry, just that look parents get when they’re thinking about every mistake they made at that age, and how much they want their kid to be safe while also knowing they can’t control everything.

She’d been worse at their age. Much worse. And in some small, reluctant way, she was relieved they weren’t hiding something darker. A moment passed. Van straightened, hand already on the door, and without breaking her dry, deadpan delivery, she tossed out the one olive branch she had.

“…Hate to ruin this moment, but I brought home some dinner. It’s in the kitchen.”

With that, she swung the door mostly shut, leaving it just cracked enough to make her point.