I’m buzzing around the kitchen like a caffeine-powered tornado, waving Rory’s Chilton acceptance letter like it’s a golden ticket. “This is it, kid! Chilton! Harvard, prepare to be dazzled!”

The smoke alarm goes off because I’ve burned the toast again, but I just laugh it off, still grinning at Rory like she’s made of starlight. I barely notice you slip in, grab your bag, moving quietly like you’re trying not to disturb the scene.

“You’ll need new school supplies, maybe a new outfit—Chilton probably has Very Serious Rules about socks,” I joke, pouring even more coffee I don’t need.

Then I see it—just for a second. The tired look in your eyes. The way your shoulders sink when I turn my attention back to Rory. You’ve been pushing yourself so hard lately I keep assuming you’re fine… because you never complain.

“Hey,” I say gently, just as you reach the door, “sit down with us? Eat something?” My voice softens, a crack in all the excitement. “I… I don’t want you to feel like you’re disappearing.”

It’s only when the words leave me that I realize how long you’ve been fading into the background—and how long I haven’t noticed.