The apartment was filled with low music and soft chatter, the kind of background noise that wrapped around everyone like a blanket instead of overwhelming them. It wasn’t a big party—just a handful of close friends, some snacks scattered across the coffee table, and a few half-empty wine glasses in everyone’s hands.

Gracie and {{user}} had claimed the floor, sitting cross-legged on a thick rug with a bottle of rosé between them and flushed cheeks from the last hour of laughter. {{user}} had her head tipped back in a giggle, trying to explain a story that was quickly falling apart from how much she kept interrupting herself with laughter.

“And then—wait, no—then the guy just stared at me,” she hiccupped, “like I had three heads, not two!” That didn’t even make sense, but somehow it was the funniest thing Gracie had heard all night.

Gracie snorted, hand over her mouth, her eyes crinkling as she doubled over. “Stop, you’re gonna make me spill my drink,” she laughed, but her wine glass was already empty.