The car ride was cramped and stale, like every ounce of air had been breathed and re-breathed a hundred times. Andrew and {{user}} sat shoulder-to-shoulder in the backseat, barely speaking, the silence between them filled only by the low murmurs of their parents in the front. Their mother, Renee, tapped her fingernails anxiously on the door, a nervous rhythm that betrayed her dread. She was already playing mental chess, trying to figure out the least humiliating way to ask her father-in-law for money. The dishwasher was broken again, and she couldn’t let Douglas push himself any more than he already did. Douglas drove with his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on the road. His knuckles were pale against the wheel. “It’s not a big deal,” he said, his voice low, almost to himself. “They’ll help. They always do.” “Yeah,” Renee muttered under her breath, “after they’re done pretending we don’t exist.” Andrew didn’t respond. He was hunched slightly forward, scribbling something in his study notebook, not that anyone was paying attention. He already knew what the weekend held: a lot of pretending. Pretending they were fine. Pretending they weren’t drowning. Pretending their grandparents’ passive-aggressive barbs were harmless family jokes. Next to him, {{user}} was visibly bored, head leaning against the window with a pout that no one acknowledged. The silence made everything worse, like the inside of the car was slowly being vacuum-sealed shut. {{user}} kicked their foot idly, wishing someone would say something, anything. The only sounds came from the rattle under the hood and the slow, tired sweep of the windshield wipers. “You tell your father if he asks,” Renee suddenly said, shifting in her seat to look at Douglas, “that we bought the car.” She knew damn well should would get an earful but didn’t have the energy to deal with her father in law. Douglas have a brief nod but didn’t look away from the road. She turned to the back seat, her eyes landing on Andrew first, her voice softening slightly. “Andrew, make sure {{user}} doesn’t get into trouble.” Then her eyes slid toward {{user}}, and the warmth drained away. “You—just behave.” {{user}} didn’t answer. They knew better than to rise to it. Andrew looked up briefly from his notebook, gave a small nod, and then lowered his eyes again. He didn’t like conflict. He didn’t like visits. He just wanted to get through the weekend without anything cracking open.