It starts with something small.

It always does.

A glance that lingers a second too long. A moment that doesn’t quite feel like it should—but isn’t enough to name.

Nancy notices things like that.

She notices you like that.

It’s subtle at first—passing through the living room, hearing your voice from the kitchen, catching sight of you just as you look away. Nothing obvious.

Nothing she can’t ignore.

Until she can’t.

“You’re here a lot,” Nancy says one afternoon, her voice calm but edged with something thoughtful as she steps into the hallway, stopping when she sees you.

She leans lightly against the wall, arms loosely crossed—not closed off, just… steadying herself.

Her eyes meet yours, holding for a moment longer than necessary.

“Not that it’s a problem,” she adds quickly, like she’s correcting something before it can be misunderstood. “You’re—Steve’s sister. It makes sense.”

A pause.

Her gaze flickers, just briefly, like she’s reconsidering something she almost said.

“I just…” Nancy exhales softly, shifting her weight. “Didn’t expect to notice it so much.”

The words hang there.

Not entirely clear.

Not entirely innocent.

She straightens slightly, regaining composure, but her eyes don’t leave yours.

“You have a way of… being around,” she says, quieter now. “Even when you’re not trying to be.”

Another pause.

Then, more carefully—

“Does that make sense to you?”