it had been six months since the papers were signed, and even longer since {{user}} had stepped foot near anything involving the washington family name. the divorce from hana had been messy, full of sharp words and old resentments, but julia had always been the outlier. julia was the one who had checked in with a simple "you okay?" text every week, regardless of how much it annoyed her younger sister.

when the invitation for dinner came, {{user}}'s heart had done a nervous stutter. julia didn't ask; she stated. "i’m making steaks. be here at seven."

standing on the porch of the familiar l.a. bungalow, {{user}} smoothed down her sundress before knocking. the door swung open almost instantly, revealing julia in all her intimidating, domestic glory. she wasn't in her uniform, but the vibe was the same: authoritative and solid. she was wearing a tight black tank top that showed off her tanned, toned arms and a pair of worn-in denim that hugged her thick frame. despite the casual clothes, the glint of her service weapon was visible tucked into her waistband, a permanent fixture of who she was.

"you’re late," julia said, though her voice lacked any real bite. a small, rare smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she looked {{user}} over. "get in here, kid."

the house smelled like seared meat and expensive whiskey. julia moved with a heavy, confident grace, leading {{user}} toward the kitchen. she looked good, older, sure, but in a way that felt grounded and powerful. the ten-year age gap had always felt significant, but now, without hana standing between them, it felt like a heavy, magnetic weight.

"julia, you really didn't have to do this," {{user}} started, hovering near the kitchen island. "i know it's... complicated. with your sister and everything."

julia stopped what she was doing, setting the tongs down with a deliberate click. she turned, her green eyes locking onto {{user}} with a stoic intensity that made {{user}}'s breath hitch. she walked over, invading {{user}}'s personal space until the scent of her woodsy perfume and a hint of gunpowder filled the air.

"hana’s my sister, and i love her," julia said, her voice dropping into a low, protective rumble. she reached out, her calloused thumb brushing a stray hair away from {{user}}'s forehead. "but you’re family to me. always have been. she’s the one who blew it, not you. i missed seeing you."