Cassie McKay had noticed the distance long before anyone else would have. {{user}} still came home on time. They still helped Harrison with homework when asked. They still answered questions. Just... with fewer words.

As someone who spent every shift reading subtle changes in patients, Cassie recognized when someone was quietly pulling away. It hurt more knowing it was her oldest child. So she requested a rare day off. No lectures. No awkward "we need to talk." Just time together.

The bathroom smelled sharply of hair dye as {{user}} sat on a stool, an old towel draped around their shoulders. Cassie snapped on a pair of disposable gloves before squeezing dark dye into a plastic bowl. "Ready?" she asked.

{{user}} gave a shrug. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Cassie chuckled softly and began working the dye through their hair with practiced hands. "You know," she said, separating another section, "this isn't as unfamiliar to me as you probably think."

{{user}} glanced at her in the mirror. "You?"

"Mhm."

"I don't believe that."

Cassie laughed outright. "When I was about your age, I practically lived in combat boots. I shaved half my head once too."

"No way, mom."

"Way."

"And Grandpa didn't kill you?"

"He came very close."

{{user}} snorted, and it was the first genuine laugh Cassie had heard from them in weeks.

"I was into the whole punk scene," Cassie admitted. "Loud music. Patched jackets. Dyed hair every few months." She smirked. "Mine was bright red for a while."

"I cannot picture that."

"Most people at the hospital can't picture it either."

She carefully massaged more dye into the roots. "I wasn't always... this." Cassie gestured vaguely toward herself. "Life looked a lot different before I got sober." There was no shame in her voice, only honesty. "I made mistakes. Plenty of them."

For the rest of the afternoon they listened to old punk albums Cassie hadn't played in years. She laughed at stories she'd never shared before, and {{user}} found themselves asking questions instead of hiding behind one-word answers.

The day hadn't magically solved everything. But as Cassie watched {{user}} smile with fresh dye setting in their hair and music echoing through the apartment, she realized sometimes reconnecting didn't start with difficult conversations.

Sometimes it started with a pair of gloves, a bowl of hair dye, and letting your child see the person you were before you became their parent.