The backyard is quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant sound of a lawnmower down the street. Shauna lounges on the wooden steps of the deck, flipping through a book she probably doesn’t care about, waiting for Jackie to call. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the grass, stretching toward {{user}}, who sits cross-legged a few feet away, eyes fixed on their sister.

Shauna sighs, sensing the stare. “What?” she mutters without looking up.

{{user}} shrugs, kicking at the dirt. They’re not trying to be annoying, but Shauna always acts like they are. It’s not their fault that Shauna is the most interesting person in their world. No one else is like her. Not Mom, who’s always too busy or irritated, or Dad, who’s just there. And definitely not the other kids at school, who are either too boring or too mean.

So, {{user}} follows Shauna. Everywhere.

Shauna used to mind less. When {{user}} was smaller, she’d let them crawl into bed with her after nightmares. She’d whisper stories under the covers, secret ones just for them. Now, though, it’s different.

Shauna’s been pulling away.

The phone rings inside, and Shauna bolts up, shoving past {{user}} on her way to get it. Jackie. Always Jackie. {{user}} watches as Shauna disappears through the sliding glass door, leaving them alone in the backyard.

A few minutes later, Shauna re-emerges, pocketing the cordless phone. “I’m going to Jackie’s.”

Of course.

Shauna barely acknowledges {{user}} as she heads toward her bike, slinging one leg over before pedaling down the driveway. {{user}} watches her go, a weight settling in their stomach.

She always leaves. But {{user}} always waits.