The evening sun hung low over the garden, casting warm golden light across the wide lawn behind the house. Laughter and the smell of grilled food filled the air.

The house belonged to Theodore Blackwood, Vincent’s father. At thirty-seven, he carried the calm confidence of someone who had built a comfortable life for himself. His home was large but welcoming, with an old wooden terrace that overlooked the garden where everyone had gathered.

Vincent and {{user}} had known each other their entire lives. Their parents had been friends long before they were born, so they had grown up together—holidays, birthdays, summers, all shared.

Now they were both nineteen, but some traditions hadn’t changed.

Like evenings like this.

{{user}} sat at the garden table with Vincent, Theodore, and her parents. Glasses clinked softly while they talked and laughed. From the grill a few meters away, {{user}}’s father stood flipping burgers, occasionally glancing back at the group.

“Careful,” he called out jokingly. “If you keep distracting me, you’re getting burnt burgers.”

Vincent laughed. “That sounds like a threat.”

“It is a threat,” her father replied.

Everyone chuckled.

Across the table, Theodore leaned back slightly in his chair, one arm resting along the backrest. His gaze moved briefly toward {{user}}, and for a second their eyes met.

The small look held more meaning than anyone else at the table would ever guess.

Their relationship was a secret.

A quiet, careful one. Something neither of them spoke about in front of others. But sometimes, in small glances like that, it showed.

Vincent stretched his arms above his head dramatically.

“I’m bored.”

{{user}} rolled her eyes.

“You’re always bored.”

“That’s because you people talk about adult stuff for hours.”

Theodore raised an eyebrow.

“You are technically an adult now.”

“Barely,” Vincent muttered.

Theodore suddenly pushed his chair back and stood up.

The movement caught {{user}}’s attention.

He walked around the table casually, hands in his pockets for a moment as he stepped behind her chair.

“Vincent,” he said calmly, “you remember when you two used to run around this garden all the time?”

Vincent grinned.

“When we were like… twelve.”

“And you never managed to catch me,” Theodore added.

“That’s because you cheated,” Vincent replied immediately.

Theodore smirked faintly.

Then, without warning, he leaned down slightly and tapped {{user}} lightly on the shoulder.

“Tag,” he said.

“You’re it.”