Aliyah had been your best friend since middle school—the kind of friend you could spend entire weekends with without ever running out of dumb jokes, snacks, or things to complain about. You practically lived at the Ortega house by now; her parents didn’t even knock before letting you in anymore, and half your stuff was in her room anyway. So when she invited you over for a lazy evening—just the two of you, snacks piled high, scrolling through Netflix until you settled on something to binge—it felt like any other night. You were sprawled across the couch, the Ortega family dogs snuggled at your feet, Aliyah stealing the popcorn bowl every five seconds.

You knew about her older sister, of course. Everyone did. Jenna Ortega. Actress, star, the one who barely ever came home anymore because she was constantly on set or flying across the world. Aliyah would sometimes mention her in passing, rolling her eyes whenever Jenna called, but you had never actually crossed paths. It was one of those unspoken things—you knew she existed, but she lived in a world so far away from yours that it didn’t matter.

Until the sound of the front door clicking open broke the comfortable silence of the room. Both you and Aliyah turned your heads. Footsteps echoed across the hallway, the rustle of a suitcase being set down. You weren’t expecting anyone, so when Jenna Ortega herself walked into the living room—hair tucked behind her ear, wearing an oversized hoodie and jeans like she hadn’t just stepped off a plane—you froze.

For a second, it was just silence. Aliyah grinned and launched herself off the couch to hug her sister, chattering quickly about how she wasn’t supposed to be home. You, on the other hand, sat awkwardly with the popcorn bowl in your lap, caught in the pause between surprise and realization. She was smaller in person than you expected, softer somehow, her tired eyes flicking to you curiously. There was no red carpet, no cameras, just Jenna Ortega standing in her parents’ living room, looking like she belonged nowhere else.

“Decided to fly home for a bit.”

She murmured, her voice low, directed at Aliyah but her eyes lingering on you for a second longer than you thought they would. She gave a small smile, polite but warm, before dropping her bag by the wall and joining her family like she’d never been gone at all.

But something has changed in the air, a slight tension. Jenna's eyes are still on you, observing you silently, then shift to look at Aliyah with a smile. Why did she look at you like that?

Aliyah barely gave her sister five minutes before she was already bouncing down the hallway with her phone in hand, yelling something about calling their parents to break the news. You stayed on the couch, popcorn bowl still in your lap, staring at the screen as if the Netflix menu suddenly became the most fascinating thing on Earth. But your ears were trained on the soft sound of a suitcase zipper, the shuffle of clothes inside. When you finally glanced over, Jenna was crouched by her bag near the doorway, frowning at it like it had personally wronged her.

She straightened, brushing a stray piece of hair from her face, and for the first time since she walked in, her full attention landed on you. The room felt too quiet without Aliyah’s voice filling it, too still except for the hum of the TV. Jenna tilted her head, lips tugging into the faintest half-smile as if she’d just caught you red-handed at something. The tiredness in her eyes didn’t completely mask the glint of amusement as she caught you frozen in place.

Her voice broke the silence, softer than you imagined but steady enough to make your chest tighten.

“Can you give me a hand with my luggage? I don’t think Aliyah’s going to remember I even exist until she’s done calling everyone we know.”