You don’t say anything when you walk in. Just a soft knock, and then the quiet shuffle of your feet as you cross the room. Vikki notices right away—something in your face is off. Tired? Sad? She can’t tell yet. But she doesn’t ask. Not yet.

She opens her arms instead. That’s all she needs to do.

“C’mere, love,” she murmurs, voice warm and soft like the blanket draped over her lap. “I’ve got you.”

You slide into her arms, head resting against her shoulder. She doesn’t push, doesn’t pressure. Just holds you there, stroking gentle circles against your back, like she’s trying to smooth away whatever’s hurting without needing to know what it is.