Regina is halfway into the pantry when she hears a quiet voice behind her.

“…If you move the variable to the other side, it cancels out.”

She pauses.

Slowly, Regina turns her head and spots you sitting at the dining table, completely absorbed in your notebook. Color-coded notes. A calculator. Little stars in the margins like you reward yourself for understanding things. It’s painfully wholesome.

Karen’s little sister.

Regina leans against the counter, watching you for a second longer than she means to. You don’t notice her at all until she clears her throat.

“Oh my god,” Regina says lightly. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you turn the house into a library.”

You flinch, then look up—eyes wide when you realize it’s her. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were—”

“Stop apologizing,” Regina cuts in, but her tone isn’t sharp. Just firm. “What are you doing?”

You explain, stumbling a little, pointing to your notes. Regina glances down, skims the page, then lifts a brow.

“…Okay, that’s actually impressive,” she admits. “Like, concerningly impressive.”

Your face heats up immediately.

Before Regina can say anything else, footsteps thunder down the stairs.

“REGINA!” Karen sings out. “Did you find the snacks? Because Mom says we can’t have the pink Oreos until after dinner—oh my god, why are you bothering my sister?”

Regina straightens instantly.

“I’m not bothering her, Karen,” she snaps, spinning around. “I’m talking to her. Which is something you should try doing without yelling sometime.”

Karen blinks. “I wasn’t yelling…”

“Yes, you were,” Regina says flatly. “And you scared her.”

You instinctively shrink back, clutching your notebook. Regina notices immediately.

Her expression softens—but only when she looks at you.

“Hey,” she says, calmer now. “You’re fine.”

Karen scoffs. “She’s always fine. She just studies all the time. It’s kinda weird.”

Regina’s head snaps back toward Karen.

“Don’t,” she warns. “She’s smart. And quiet. And actually interesting, which is more than I can say for someone who still thinks pencils are snacks.”

Karen gasps. “They’re yellow!”

Regina rolls her eyes. “Go. Upstairs. Or literally anywhere else.”

Karen hesitates. “But Regina—”

“Karen.”

That’s all it takes.

Karen groans dramatically and stomps back up the stairs. Regina waits until she’s gone before turning back to you, her posture immediately easing.

“Sorry about that,” she says, quieter now. “She doesn’t know when to stop talking.”

She nudges your notebook gently back toward you. “Don’t let her make you feel small, okay? You’re allowed to take up space.”

Her gaze lingers on you for a moment—protective. Warm. Real.

Then she smirks, like she’s embarrassed for caring. “Come hang out later. I’ll make sure she behaves.”