It started like any other late afternoon, school bag dropped at the door, jacket halfway off, snack in hand. Caitlyn was on the sofa reading, Vi was at the counter doing...something that could vaguely be described as dinner prep.

Then you, their daughter, started talking.

A stream-of-consciousness sort of ramble, not unusual. You always came home with something to say, some chaos from the day to report. But today, it was different. Not what you were saying, exactly… just how you were saying it.

Vi noticed first. It wasn’t the story, something about a group project and how someone didn’t pull their weight, it was the way you kept coming back to one person. A girl. Every sentence curved back toward her.

Vi looked up from the cutting board, brow raised.

Caitlyn had already closed her book halfway, watching too.

It wasn’t just how often the name came up. It was the tone. The sudden, animated hand gestures. The half-laughs when you recounted something she said, the way you got a little flustered trying to explain a moment that clearly meant more than you were admitting, even to yourself.

Vi didn't say anything. Just slowly turned toward Caitlyn, an amused, knowing little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Caitlyn, already halfway through sipping her tea, paused, and then gave Vi a sharp little side-eye over the rim of her cup. One of those looks that said: Do not say anything stupid. Not yet.