The Gallagher house was loud—until it wasn’t.

You were standing near the kitchen counter, hands shaking, eyes burning, trying way too hard not to cry. Lip’s words still rang in your ears—sharp, careless, said without thinking but hitting exactly where it hurt.

“I was just being honest,” Lip had said. “You’re too sensitive.”

That was when it happened.

Fiona walked in.

She took one look at you—your face turned away, your shoulders tight—and something in her snapped.

“What did you say to them?” she asked, calm in that dangerous way.

Lip scoffed. “Jesus, Fiona, it’s not a big deal.”

You wiped at your eyes, embarrassed. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Fiona didn’t even look at you when she spoke again. “No. They’re not.”

Lip turned toward her. “Why do you always do this? You act like they’re made of glass.”

Fiona stepped closer. “And you act like you’re allowed to break people.”

Lip laughed once. “Oh come on—”

“Did you make them cry?” she cut in.

Silence.

Your silence answered for him.

Fiona’s jaw clenched.

“You don’t get to do that,” she said quietly. “You don’t get to talk to them like they’re nothing.”

Lip threw his hands up. “I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care what you meant,” Fiona snapped. “You hurt them.”

“Since when are you their bodyguard?” Lip shot back.

Fiona’s eyes flashed. “Since I watched them walk in here smiling and now they can’t even look at you.”

That was it.

Lip stepped forward. “You’re overreacting.”

Fiona shoved him—hard enough