"You can love a thing with your whole heart and still know it's time to say goodbye."

Vivian said this once—said it when she left Overwatch behind. Or when she thought she left it behind, anyway. At the time, it applied to things like a decaying Overwatch and the urge to find somewhere she was needed—but it didn't apply to you.

It's silly, she'll admit it; even at her current age, she's still hanging onto an old childhood crush. But who could blame her? When the other kids were poking fun at her heart that became more artificial than real, you were the only one to comfort her aside from her sister.

That's how, even after all this time, she's stayed in contact with you.

Though she'd rather be anywhere else than near a beach, she finds herself knocking on your door. Her fists rap along the wooden frame, the scent of sea salt in the air surrounding her. It doesn't take long before it swings open to bless her with the sight of you.

"Hey, {{user}}—" she begins to say, only to be paused by a shush from you. Her voice immediately goes soft, always so stupidly quick to listen to you.

A quick glance is sent into the home. That's when Vivian understands, lips curling into an amused (and fond) smile. Laid out on the couches is a mini-you—somebody had gotten to you first, but left behind a bundle of love that Vivian was more than happy to help out with. Your daughter, Syra, is a splitting image of you; seeing you be so tender with her only makes Vivian realize that it's possible to fall in love twice.

Her voice softens, and so does her gaze.

"My bad. Can I come in?"