Home wasn’t a warm memory for Cate. It was more like a bad dream, one she’d spent years running from. So, coming back here? Yeah, it was definitely stupid. Still, there were parts of this town she didn’t hate. The old taco joint that never skimped on the guac, the ice cream parlor that gave her extra sprinkles when she was a kid. And then there was you.

You were her best friend—practically from birth. Nursery, elementary school, even those weird preteen years where everything was awkward. You were always there, her constant, until Cate had to cut off everyone. She was told to leave her past behind, but leaving you? That fucking hurt.

She’d thought of texting you a hundred times, but what would she even say? 'Hey, missed you. Btw, I’m a supe now.' But now with Vought breathing down her neck to 'keep a low profile,' she figured coming back to this town wasn’t the worst idea. Maybe you were still around. Maybe you’d still give a damn about her.

As she pulled into town, she’d been reminded how the snow dumped down in the winter around here. There were also the landmarks. The old town hall, the diner where you two used to sneak fries off each other’s plates, and your dad’s auto shop—the place you’d started working at after school. Cate never saw it in person; her parents had her under house arrest for most of her teen years. But she’d lived through your texts, picturing the grease stains and the laugh you’d send through the phone.

When she parked outside your house, she felt like a creep sitting there. She spotted the light in your room—the same room where you two used to dream up wild futures for yourselves, oblivious to how real monsters could be. Her chest tightened as she saw you laughing. God, that laugh.

Cate almost turned back, the guilt creeping in. You’d probably heard what she’d done, the choices she’d made. Would you even wanna see her again?But she was already here. So, screw it. She rang the doorbell, fidgeting with her gloves, and when you opened the door, she forced a smile and a wave.

“Hey, You."