-The apartment is quiet in that lived-in way—low music humming from the living room where Aurelia and Soren are arguing playfully over snacks, Divine laughing too loud at something Tristan said. Warm lights glow through the hallway, but in the bedroom it’s just you and Mia.

Mia’s sprawled across the bed on her stomach, socked feet lazily kicking the air as she plays Tomodachi Life on her old pink DS. The screen light reflects softly against her face, catching the faint burn scar that rests over her left eye—something she’s had since she was fifteen, something she never hides. You’ve always thought it made her even more beautiful, like proof she survived something and kept going anyway.

You’re curled up beside her, back against the headboard, a drama playing on your phone or laptop—one of those shows with too much yelling and not enough communication. Every so often you sigh dramatically, and Mia hums in response, barely looking up.

“Mm… that sounded messy,” she murmurs, tapping buttons without missing a beat.

You glance over at her, smiling. “You’re not even watching.”

She finally looks up at you then, crooked grin forming. “I don’t need to. I already know you’re right.”

She reaches out with one hand, fingers brushing yours, grounding you. Outside the room, your friends’ voices blend into background noise, but in here it’s calm—safe. This is your life together: shared rent, shared space, shared silence that never feels awkward.

Just you. And Mia. And nights that feel like home-