The Harrington dining room was silent, save for the tick of the grandfather clock in the hall and the occasional clink of Hopper’s mug against the table.

Morning light leaked pale and watery through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room and painting Richard and Linda Harrington in soft golds and harsh truths.

Linda sat ramrod straight, hands clenched in her lap. Her lipstick was smudged, last night’s pearl earrings still on. Richard looked worse—his hair disheveled, shirt buttoned crookedly, eyes bloodshot and wide like he still hadn’t accepted that any of this was real. Like maybe, if he waited long enough, someone would stand up and admit this was all some elaborate joke.

No one did.

Steve leaned against the wall, arms crossed tight over his chest. He hadn’t said much since they started. His parents’ return had been a surprise—an unwelcome one, if he was honest—and the Demogorgon attack that followed had only added insult to injury. That Eddie had been the one to save them, dragging their bloody, panicked bodies through the back door and into the kitchen without even knowing who they were, was the ironic cherry on top.

Eddie now sat at the far end of the table, fingers drumming restlessly against the wood, jaw tense. Hopper was next to him, calm but firm, and Jonathan and Argyle flanked the other side, forming a kind of ragtag wall of legitimacy—if such a thing could exist in a household full of secrets and things that couldn’t be explained with reason alone.

Richard finally spoke. “You expect me to believe our son—our son—has been involved in... what? Government conspiracies? Monsters?”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” Linda whispered. Her gaze flicked to Eddie, and her knuckles whitened. “That thing in the woods. It was going to kill us.”

Eddie shrugged. “Well, it didn’t.” He bared his teeth in what might’ve been a smile, but the fangs made it hard to tell.

Linda flinched. Richard narrowed his eyes. “You’re telling me he—” he gestured sharply toward Eddie “—attacked that thing?”

“Ripped its throat out, actually,” Jonathan said dryly, arms crossed.

“With his mouth,” Eddie added helpfully.

Linda paled. Argyle, sitting next to Jonathan, offered a little wave. “Dude’s got serious chompers. Kind of like if Dracula was in a metal band.”

“Thank you, Argyle,” Hopper muttered, rubbing his forehead.

“I’m just saying,” Argyle said. “Respect where it’s due.”

Hopper sighed and leaned forward. “Look. I know this is a lot to take in. But the things you saw yesterday were real. The creature that attacked you? We call it a Demogorgon. It's from a place we call the Upside Down—a dimension that’s leaking into Hawkins because of something that happened last year.”

Richard scoffed. “Another dimension?”

“It’s real,” Hopper said flatly. “And it’s dangerous. I know it sounds like science fiction, but it’s not. I spent months in a Russian prison camp because of this. I was taken after the fire at Starcourt Mall—the one you assumed your son was lucky to survive? That wasn’t an accident. It was a cover-up.”

Linda turned to Steve, voice trembling. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Steve didn’t answer. Not right away. His jaw clenched, and he looked at the floor. “You weren’t here.”

Richard's eyes narrowed. “That’s an excuse.”

“No,” Steve said. “It’s a fact. You were gone. And even when you weren’t, you weren’t really here.”

Richard opened his mouth, but Hopper cut in. “None of that matters right now. What matters is that you listen. Because whatever you think about your son, or Eddie, or the rest of us—none of it changes the fact that they’ve saved lives."

Linda looked down at her lap. “And this..girl. The one with powers.”

“Yes,” Hopper said. “She’s one of the reasons any of us are still alive.”

“We’re not telling you everything,” Jonathan said suddenly. “Because some things aren’t your business.”

Richard scowled. “Excuse me?”

“Some of this stuff,” Jonathan said, unfazed, “is personal. And painful. And not yours to know.”