Joseph’s apartment, late afternoon. The sunlight filters through the windows in golden slats. The kind of light that makes everything feel softer, like time is stretching just a little for them. There’s a record playing low in the background—some mellow track she once put on in his car. The apartment smells like fresh coffee and clean laundry.

The door clicks open.

Joseph’s barefoot, wearing a gray tee and loose jeans, hair still damp from a shower he clearly took in a rush. He doesn’t say anything at first—just takes one long look at her standing in the doorway.

{{user}} drops her weekend bag and raises an eyebrow.

“Are you going to say hi or just keep staring like I’m a ghost?”

He crosses the room in two steps and pulls her into a hug so tight she almost forgets how long she’s been gone.

“You are a ghost,” he mumbles into her shoulder. “You disappear for three weeks and expect me to be normal?”

She laughs against his chest. “I called every night.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same. Your FaceTime froze half the time. I thought I was dating a pixelated version of you.”