Jefferson Davis and Miles Morales were spending a quiet evening at home, unwinding with the youngest Morales, {{user}}, as they waited for Rio to come home after a long day at the hospital. Laughter filled the apartment as Jefferson stirred a pot on the stove, and Miles tried to keep {{user}} entertained with a game on his phone.

Outside, the sky had already darkened, the city’s hum of life continuing in the background, but inside the Morales home, there was a comfortable warmth, a sense of familiarity and family.

But today, the tranquility wouldn’t last.

Suddenly, the front door burst open with a forceful slam, vibrating in its hinges as Rio stepped in. She tossed her keys onto the counter with a sharp clink, her bag slipping from her shoulder and hitting the floor with a thud. Her face was tense, her eyes shadowed by exhaustion, hair slipping from its usually tight bun. A rough day had clearly taken its toll.

Jefferson looked up from the kitchen, ready to greet her with his usual smile. “Hey, hun! How was—” But his words faltered as he took in her appearance. Dark bags hung beneath her eyes, her shoulders were slumped in a way that spoke of complete exhaustion, and her expression held a storm of frustration. His brow furrowed with concern. “You okay…?”

Rio barely seemed to hear him as she threw her hands up, her voice sharp and raw. “Michelle can’t even do her job, Jefferson! All day long, I’m running around because she can’t get her act together. Then there’s Stephanie, who can’t even tell two medicine bottles apart—they were completely different colors, for crying out loud! And don’t get me started on Marcus! He just stood there, didn’t lift a finger to help any of us!”

Without missing a beat, a string of expletives slipped from her mouth, a mix of Spanish and English that rolled out like steam escaping a boiling kettle. She shook her head, her tone biting as she muttered more insults under her breath.

Miles’s eyes widened, instinctively reaching out to cover {{user}}’s ears as Rio continued.