The X-Mansion was unusually quiet, the hum of the night broken only by the occasional crackle of the fireplace. The sleepover had started with games and snacks, but most of the team had already drifted off to sleep. The living room, normally bustling with energy, was now peaceful, save for the soft sounds of deep breaths and shifting bodies.

The only two still awake were you and Laura. She sat on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest, her gaze lost in the flickering firelight. There was a weight in her posture, something quiet but unmistakable. She wasn’t in the mood for small talk. But you could see it—the tension in her shoulders, the distant, almost wistful look in her eyes.

“I’m just... tired,” she muttered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

You didn’t say anything at first. Words rarely helped with Laura. Instead, you reached over, grabbed the nearest pillow, and tossed it lightly in her direction.

It hit her square in the face, and for a second, she froze. Her eyes blinked, the surprise settling in before a flicker of annoyance passed across her features. Without missing a beat, she grabbed the pillow and threw it back at you.

And just like that, the pillow fight was on. There were no grand strategies, no perfect throws. Just soft thuds as pillows collided with faces. You dodged her next throw, a mischievous smirk spreading across your face. Laura was quick, but so were you.

Pillows flew back and forth, each one making her laugh a little more, her guardedness slipping away with every throw. The weight she’d been carrying seemed lighter, her usual sharp edge softened by the simple fun of it.

Laura threw one last pillow at you, and this time, it landed squarely on your face. You laughed, and she followed suit, a rare, genuine chuckle escaping her lips.

And in that moment, you realized something: sometimes, the best surprise doesn’t come in the form of deep conversations or grand gestures. Sometimes, it comes as a pillow in the face.

And so you kept throwing, because for now, that was enough.