Fiona stood at the stove, flipping pancakes, when she realized something was off.

Everyone was already downstairs, Liam, Lip, Ian, Carl, even Debbie, but you weren’t. Her eyes flicked to the hallway, a small tug of worry in her chest.

She turned the stove down and quietly headed upstairs, each creaky step echoing in the quiet morning.

She knocked gently before pushing your door open. Her gaze softened.

There you were, curled under your comforter, stuffed dog tucked tight to your chest.

The way you clung to it, face half-buried in the plush fur, told her everything, one of those days.

Fiona stepped in carefully. “Hey, sweetheart…” Her voice was soft, warm. She sat on the edge of your bed and brushed a bit of hair from your face. “Bad morning?”

You didn’t answer right away, just gave a tiny nod.

Fiona sighed, heart cracking a little. “Okay. That’s okay. You don’t have to come down. I made blueberry pancakes, your favorite. I can bring some up if you want.”