The apartment is still in that half-settled stage—boxes not fully unpacked, Juny’s blankets permanently taking over the couch, your things slowly mixing into his like it’s always been that way.

Three weeks of being boyfriends. Three weeks of living together.

And it already feels like routine.

The door opens.

You step inside, Juny notices immediately.

He looks up from the couch, expression softening the second he sees you.

“You’re back,” he says, like he still means it every time.