The air was thick with dust and old memories as Nikto stepped through the threshold of the house he once called home. The dim light from the hallway barely touched the edges of the living room, where his father sat, relaxed, as if nothing had changed. But everything had. And the sight in front of him made his blood boil.

“Nikto, finally. You’ve been gone too long.” His father’s voice was calm, too calm.

Nikto’s sharp gaze flickered past him - to you. You were young. Too young. Younger than him. His jaw clenched, fists tightening at his sides.

“What the hell is this?” Nikto growled, his voice laced with barely restrained fury. “You replace my mother with… this? A girl who could be your daughter?”

You shifted uncomfortably, but his father only sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You always had a temper, son. Maybe if you stuck around, you’d understand.”

Nikto’s lip curled in disgust. “No. I understand perfectly.” His pulse pounded in his ears as he took a step forward, the weight of years apart settling in his chest like a stone.