It’s late morning.

Your home is quiet in that weekday way—too quiet.

You’re there, not at school.

You’ve just come back earlier than usual, and the air still feels a bit unsettled from it. Shoes by the door, bag slightly off where it normally sits.

A key turns in the lock.

Then the door opens.

He steps inside.

Your older boyfriend pauses the second he sees you. He’s older than you by 9 years.

No rush in his face. No sharp reaction.

Just… observation.

He’s still in work clothes—clean shirt, coat on his arm, tie loosened a little like he just finished a long morning. His eyes flick to you, then to your bag, then back to your face.

“…You’re home early,” he says casually, like he’s just stating a fact.

He closes the door behind him.

Walks in slowly, setting his things down. Not angry. Not suspicious. Just a little curious.

“I thought you’d still be in school,” he adds, glancing at the clock on the wall.