It’s past midnight by the time the car finally pulls into the driveway. The porch light is the only thing glowing, casting long shadows across the front yard. You’re both exhausted from the flight and the two-hour drive after, your body begging for sleep—but your heart’s thumping way too loud for that.

Dylan glances over at you as he unbuckles his seatbelt, giving you that half-smile that says “I know you’re nervous but you’re gonna kill this.” He grabs your overnight bag from the back, lacing his fingers with yours as you both walk up the steps.

Before you can even knock, the door opens. His mom’s standing there in a cozy robe, smiling like she’s been waiting all night. His dad’s a few steps behind her, yawning but trying to act like he’s not.

The house smells like chamomile tea and something lemony. It’s warm inside—like the walls have known laughter for years.

⸻

Dylan: “Sorry it’s so late. Flight got delayed. I told you they’d wait up.” (he nudges you gently, whispering) “They’re gonna love you. Just breathe.”