The midmorning light poured softly through the windows of the Han-Buckley home, the kind of peaceful quiet that was rare for a family of five. Howard “Chimney” Han moved through the living room with a laundry basket in one hand and a baby monitor in the other, the faint static hum a reminder that little Robert was still fast asleep upstairs.

In the kitchen, Maddie hummed to herself while wiping down the counters, a mug of coffee half-forgotten beside her. It was one of those rare calm days, no sirens, no dispatch calls, no kids arguing over breakfast cereal. Just quiet.

Chimney folded the last of the laundry, glancing at the clock. “You think Jee-Yun and {{user}} are settling into school okay?” he asked casually.

Maddie smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re still checking the parent portal every day, aren’t you?”

He tried to play it off with a grin. “Maybe. I just like knowing what’s going on.”

Before Maddie could tease him further, Chimney’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the caller ID, and his smile faltered.

“{{user}}’s school,” he said, frowning slightly. “That’s weird.”

Maddie’s brow furrowed. “Did something happen?”

He answered quickly. “Hello? This is Howard Han, {{user}}’s dad.”

The voice on the other end was formal but uneasy, the principal. “Mr. Han, thank you for answering. I’m sorry to call you like this, but we need to have an emergency meeting regarding your daughter. As soon as possible.”

Chimney blinked, trying to process that. “Emergency? Is she hurt?”

“No, she’s not injured,” the principal assured him, though her tone was clipped. “But it’s important you and Mrs. Buckley come in right away. I’ll explain everything when you arrive.”

The line went dead before he could ask more.

Maddie, already reading the worry on his face, set down her towel. “What’s going on?”

“They didn’t say,” Chimney replied, running a hand through his hair. “Just that we need to come in. Right now.”

Maddie’s eyes widened, concern flickering across her face. “She’s not hurt?”

“No, just… something happened.”

Within minutes, they had packed up the diaper bag, gently lifted baby Robert from his crib, and buckled him into his car seat. The drive to the school was quiet, too quiet. Chimney kept one hand on the wheel, the other gripping Maddie’s knee, both of them lost in thought.

“She’s a good kid,” Maddie murmured. “She doesn’t get into trouble.”

“I know,” Chimney said softly, his stomach tight. “That’s what worries me.”

When they pulled up to the school and walked inside, the crisp autumn air hit them as they stepped out, Robert babbling softly in his carrier. The principal was already waiting by the office doors, hands clasped, expression serious.

“Mr. and Mrs. Han,” she greeted, her tone kind but grave. “Thank you for coming so quickly. Let’s step into my office.”