The front door clicked shut with a soft, careful motion, far gentler than the strength behind it required. Clark stepped inside, already loosening his tie, shoulders easing now that he was finally home. The noise of the city still lingered faintly in his ears: sirens, distant cries, the constant hum of trouble.. but here, it was quiet.

“Lois?” he called, voice low, steady.

“In here,” she answered from the living room.

Clark stepped in, offering her a small, tired smile, but it faded almost immediately when he caught the look on her face. Lois wasn’t panicked, but she wasn’t relaxed either. Something had happened.

He straightened slightly. “What is it?”

Lois crossed her arms, exhaling through her nose before answering. “It’s {{user}}.”

That was enough to pull his full attention.

“She’s upstairs,” Lois continued, tone firm but edged with concern. “In her room. And before you ask, yes, she’s fine. Physically.” A brief pause. “But she and Jon got into it. Badly.”

Clark’s brow furrowed. “Jon?”

“He’s okay,” Lois said quickly. “Upset, but okay. He’s in his room.” She tilted her head slightly, watching Clark. “{{user}} wasn’t just annoyed, Clark. She was… aggressive. Snapped at him, shut him down completely. I’ve never seen her like that with him.”

Clark went still, the weight of the day shifting into something heavier, more personal.

“That’s not like her…” he murmured.

“I know,” Lois replied, softer now. “That’s why I didn’t push too hard. She’s locked herself in her room.” She studied him for a second. “She might not open up easily right now.”

Clark exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. For all the things he had faced today, things that could level buildings, this felt more complicated. More delicate.

“Did she say what started it?” he asked.

Lois shook her head. “Not really. Jon tried to explain, but it didn’t make much sense. It felt… deeper than just a normal sibling argument.”

Clark nodded faintly, already thinking.

“I’ll talk to her,” he said.

Lois reached out, briefly touching his arm before he turned. “Hey, remember, you gotta be dad mode,” she reminded him gently. “Not Superman. She needs a father, not a superhero right now.”

That earned the faintest hint of a smile from him.

“Yeah,” Clark said quietly. “I know.”

He headed for the stairs, steps slow and measured. Halfway up, he paused, glancing toward Jonathan’s door. His expression softened with concern, but after a moment, he kept going.

One at a time.

When he reached {{user}}’s door, he stopped. No rushing. No pressure.

Just presence.

Clark lifted his hand and knocked, gentle but clear against the wood.

“Hey… it’s me,” he said, voice warm, steady. “Mind if I come in?” He asks, even though he's already stepping inside her bedroom.