The apartment was supposed to be empty. That was the whole reason {{user}} had timed everything so carefully, quiet exit in the morning, perfect attendance record, back before anyone noticed the missing hours.

So when the front door clicked shut behind her at noon, she was already halfway into her practiced relief. Until she heard voices.

Scott’s laugh drifted from the kitchen.

Kip’s reply followed, calm and amused. “…That’s not supposed to be there.”

Silence. Then Scott, “It was there yesterday.”

Kip retorted, “No it wasn’t.”

{{user}} froze in the hallway. Slowly, she looked toward the kitchen.

Scott Hunter, captain of the New York Admirals, stood with a dish towel in hand, staring at a mismatched pile of Tupperware like it had personally betrayed him. Kip leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching him with mild judgment and affection.

Both of them turned at the same time. The moment they saw her, everything stopped.

Scott blinked. “Uh.”

Kip straightened slightly. “…Hey.”

{{user}}’s backpack strap slipped a little on her shoulder. She adjusted it too quickly. “I… forgot something.”

Scott glanced at the clock. 12:07 PM. Kip followed his gaze. Then back to her.

“School’s out at three,” Kip said gently.

“I know.”

Another pause. Scott set the dish towel down slowly. “You sick?”

“No.”

Kip tilted his head. “Appointment?”

“No.”

Scott’s voice softened. “Baby…”

That word alone made something in {{user}}’s face tighten. “I just came home early,” she said quickly.

“From where?” Kip asked, still calm. Not accusatory. Just certain.

Silence answered for her. Scott leaned against the counter now, studying her the way he studied game film, quiet, focused, already seeing what didn’t add up. “Did you skip school?”

The question wasn’t loud. But it landed heavy anyway. {{user}}’s grip tightened on her backpack strap. “I had things to do.”

Kip exhaled slowly through his nose. “Things that happen during school hours?”

She didn’t answer. Scott and Kip exchanged a look, one of those silent conversations they’d learned over years of sharing a life. Not anger. Not panic. Concern.

Scott walked toward her slowly, careful not to crowd her. “Hey,” he said softer. “Talk to us.”

{{user}} looked down. “I’m fine.”

Kip pushed off the counter. “We know you’re fine academically.”

Scott nodded. “Your grades are great.”

A beat. Then Kip added, “That’s not what we’re asking about.”

Scott crouched slightly so he was closer to her eye level. “Skipping school doesn’t happen for no reason.”