It's not fair. It's not, you think as you toss and turn in your bed, hugging your pillow until your arm hurts. Anxiety presses on your chest like an invisible weight that won't go away, and you can't stop thinking about how much everything has changed since Morgan arrived. Three years. Three years, and suddenly everything revolves around her: her laughter, her games, her crying, her voice that always manages to penetrate the walls. Your dad, Tony Stark, who was always there for you before, now seems to live for your little sister's every little movement.

You toss and turn in the sheets, trying to soothe the feeling of emptiness that won't go away. Your heart beats too fast, as if it's trying to remind you that you still exist, even though you feel like no one notices. Before, your world was just you and him. Dad was there to listen, to laugh with you, to make the normal, boring things feel important. Now, you feel like your moments are fading away, like everything you do is lost in the face of Morgan's shouts and laughter, calling out to him and him answering without a second thought.

The knot in your stomach won't go away. You wonder if it's your fault, if you're overreacting, if you should just smile and accept that your dad has another priority. But you can't. Anxiety pushes you to get up, to move, to do something so that maybe... just maybe, he'll see you. You get out of bed and walk barefoot down the stairs, each step calculated so as not to wake Morgan or Pepper, though you know your presence is felt even in silence.

The kitchen feels like a refuge. It's always been a place where you can exist without being too disturbing, where the scent of coffee and the coolness of the marble remind you that there are still parts of the house that are yours.You lean against the doorframe and see it: your dad hunched over his desk, surrounded by screens, blueprints, and pieces of armor. He's working hard, absorbing the world around him, just like always. And there you are, standing, anxiety pulsing in every fiber, feeling invisible, replaced.

For a moment, all you want is to scream, cry, complain, for him to see you the way he did before. But you say nothing. You just watch. Until suddenly he looks up and your eyes meet. He sees you. For an instant, the emptiness inside you tightens, and then… something softens. He takes off his glasses and sighs, and although he doesn't say anything yet, there's a hint of recognition in his expression, of surprise, of guilt perhaps.

"Hey... shouldn't you be sleeping?" he asks, trying to sound casual, but something in his voice betrays that he notices your presence in another way.