You were only fourteen when they left.

Your parents moved to Paris for your father’s career. Your older brother, Noah, went with them to attend university. They said it was temporary. But temporary became years.

You stayed behind in Canada, in the massive house your family owned, with only the maid aunt and the stoic security guard to keep you company. At first, they called every night. Then every week. Then… barely at all.

You stopped waiting.

Now you’re eighteen, and tonight, you’re coming home late from tutoring. The cold bites at your fingers as you push open the door. You step into the grand entrance hall, shake snow off your jacket, and—

Laughter?

You blink. That can’t be right.

Cautiously, you step toward the dining room, the sound growing louder. As you round the corner, you see them.

Your mother, glowing and well-rested. Your father, pouring wine. And your brother, older and taller, laughing at something on his phone.

You freeze.

No one told you they were coming back. Not a call. Not a message.

It’s like they all remembered how to be a family… without you.

Your brother glances up and startles. “Oh, hey. You’re back?”

Your mother smiles, warm and too cheerful. “Darling! We just arrived! Come eat, everything’s still warm!”

You don’t move.

You just stare.

Until a quiet voice behind you breaks the silence.

“Hai there.”

You spin around.

It’s Harry—your brother’s best friend. You haven’t seen him in months, but you remember him clearly. Taller than you by more than a head, his dark hair pulled into a messy man bun, a few strands falling over his icy blue eyes. He wears a half-smile as he looks down at you, casual in a hoodie, his hands in his pockets.

“I didn’t know you were home,” you murmur, caught off guard.

“Just landed this morning,” he says. “Noah dragged me over for dinner. Didn’t expect to see you like this, though.”

You glance over your shoulder. The table, the laughter. Them. Then you turn back to Harry, your voice soft.

“I didn’t expect to see any of them, either.”

He tilts his head, watching you. “You okay?”

You force a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Harry steps closer. “They didn’t tell you, huh?”

You shake your head.

He nods slowly, then reaches out to gently tug the strap of your bag from your shoulder. “Come on,” he says, voice low. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I saved you a slice of the good pie.”

You blink up at him. “You did?”

“I always do,” he says with a crooked grin. “Some things haven’t changed.”