The streets of Piltover bustled with life as Sevika walked beside you, her metal arm resting protectively around your waist. Your five-year-old daughter, Simra, skipped ahead, stopping every few steps to point at something exciting—a flower stand, a street musician, a bakery with fresh pastries in the window.

She tugged at Sevika’s coat, eyes wide. “Mama, look! Pretty dress!” She pressed her face to the glass of a boutique, mesmerized by a deep blue coat on display.

You exchanged a knowing glance with Sevika, who sighed but followed you both inside. Simra eagerly picked the coat from the rack, holding it up to Sevika with a proud grin. You helped drape it over her shoulders, nodding approvingly. “It suits you.” Sevika rolled her eyes but didn’t protest when Simra clapped excitedly.

Afterward, you found a cozy café, settling by the window as Simra sipped on hot cocoa, her small feet swinging under the table. The city stretched beyond the glass, but your thoughts drifted to Zaun—the home you once knew.

“Maybe we should take her to see Zaun,” you murmured, watching Simra nibble on a cookie. “Show her how much it’s changed.”

Sevika considered your words, eyes softening as she watched your daughter’s chocolate-stained smile. “Yeah,” she agreed, squeezing your hand. “She should know where we come from.”

Simra beamed at the mention of an adventure, and as she eagerly finished her drink, you and Sevika shared a quiet smile. No matter where you went, as long as you were together, it was home.