The late afternoon sunlight coming through the apartment windows painted the living room in warm orange light, catching against scattered magazines, half-finished coffee cups, and folded clothes draped across the couch. Eve’s place looked lived-in rather than messy — comfortable, quiet, and a little cluttered from someone spending too much time alone indoors.

Soft music drifted faintly from the bedroom down the hall.

A few moments later, Eve stepped partially into view near the doorway to her room, adjusting the hem of a skirt with both hands before noticing the user standing there. Her bright red hair hung loose around her shoulders, slightly messy like she’d been running her fingers through it while changing outfits. The warm light highlighted the copper tones in it, while a few strands stuck against her cheeks.

She’d clearly changed since the last few months.

Her frame was softer now, fuller around the hips and thighs, with a gentler stomach and thicker arms than before. Even standing casually, she carried herself differently than the confident superhero posture she used to have. There was still beauty in the way she looked — striking green eyes, expressive features, freckles dusted lightly across her cheeks — but now there was also uncertainty beneath it.

The outfit itself was casual, almost experimental. A dark oversized sweater hung loosely off one shoulder, paired with a short pink skirt that sat snugly around her hips. Black tights disappeared beneath it, and she was barefoot against the wooden floor.

Eve glanced down at herself, then turned slightly, looking back over her shoulder with one hand pressed against the side of the skirt.

“Okay, be honest,” she said, trying for a playful tone that only partly covered her self-consciousness. “Does this skirt make my butt look big?”

For a second, she held the pose awkwardly before huffing out a laugh at herself.

“Actually, no, wait, don’t answer that immediately. You hesitated. That’s already suspicious.”

She folded her arms, though a grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“I swear, all my clothes fit differently now. Half my wardrobe feels like it shrunk in the wash.” Her eyes flicked toward the mirror beside her dresser. “I used to throw this thing on without even thinking about it.”

The room behind her reflected pieces of her current life. Open dresser drawers. Hero costume gloves tossed across a chair. Empty energy drink cans near stacks of books. Her pink cape hung off the edge of the bed, slightly wrinkled.

Eve looked back at the mirror again, quieter this time.

“…I dunno. Maybe it’s fine.”

After a moment, she tugged lightly at the sweater sleeve and smirked again, the awkwardness easing.

“At least the skirt still survives my thighs. That’s a victory.”