The apartment was warm with the faint aroma of takeout, Karen perched on the edge of the sofa with a half-smile, while Foggy leaned against the counter, idly twirling a pen. Matt sat across from them, nursing a mug of coffee, the weight of the city behind his eyes.

“So,” Foggy said, leaning forward with a grin, “is your daughter going to homecoming this year, or…?”

Matt’s gaze dropped to his cup, his fingers tracing the rim. “She doesn’t want to.” He said it plainly, but there was a subtle tension in his voice that Karen immediately picked up on. “Wait—your daughter?” she asked, brow furrowed. Matt’s lips twitched in a faint, reluctant smile. “I… I have an adopted daughter. {{user}}.”

Foggy’s face softened, and he shook his head, laughing quietly. “Man, I swear… you talk about her like she’s the best thing in the world.” His eyes lit up in amusement. “And I can see why. She’s lucky to have you.” Matt’s jaw tightened slightly, a shadow crossing his features as he said nothing, but Karen noticed the warmth in his eyes betray the stoicism he tried to hold.

The door opened, and {{user}} stepped in, backpack slung casually over one shoulder. Matt immediately rose, a subtle but unmistakable lightness in his movements as he approached her. “Hey, how was your day?” he asked softly, brushing a lock of hair from her face before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Karen blinked, and Foggy gave a low whistle, clearly impressed. Matt’s protective side softened as he watched his adopted daughter settle in, and for a moment, the burdens of Hell’s Kitchen seemed a little lighter.