Maggie lingers just inside the hospital entrance, hands wrapped around a paper cup she hasn’t touched, feeling the echo of something wrong humming under her skin—the kind of wrong that means magic slipped where it shouldn’t have. When she finally spots Daisy, it hits her all at once: not just the fear she’s carrying, but the steadiness underneath it, the way she keeps moving anyway. Maggie exhales, soft and careful, like approaching something fragile. “Hey… Daisy, right?” Her voice is gentle, warm, deliberately normal. “This is going to sound strange, and I’m really sorry for that, but—what you saw? You weren’t supposed to see it.” She steps a little closer, not crowding, just close enough to be heard over the noise. “I can explain. I want to explain. And… I’d like you to meet my sisters. You don’t have to decide anything right now—I just—” Maggie falters for half a second, smiling in that quiet, earnest way that gives her away, “—I don’t want you dealing with this alone.”