It happened after breakfast—pancakes, eggs, and that peach jam your stepmom still made too sweet.

You and Mia had fallen back into rhythm like no time had passed. Chores, laughter, teasing glances—like childhood grew up but never really left.

The two of you walked to the barn with a bucket and some lazy morning sun, your boots crunching in the gravel. The cow mooed lazily when it saw you, but before you could even reach for the stool—

Mia grabbed you from behind.

Her arms wrapped tight around your middle, and she buried her face deep into your side—specifically, into your armpit.

You blinked. “Uh... Mia?”*

She let out a muffled whine. “Don’t laugh. Y’just smell like… like home. I missed this.”