The night air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and rain as you leaned back on the worn-out couch, exhaustion pressing into your bones. Dim glow of your phone screen cast sharp shadows over your face, your mother’s familiar voice filling the space as she rambled about some new recipe she had tried

”—so I added a little more ginger this time, but your father says it wasn’t the same without the miso base. What do you think?”

You hummed in vague agreement, half-listening as your gaze drifted toward Rion. She sat next by, cross-legged, absentmindedly twirling a knife between her fingers. Steel gleamed in the low light, spinning effortlessly before settling back into her palm. She wasn’t eavesdropping, not exactly—just existing in the space beside you, the way she always did.

Your pasts were like landmines. You knew where most of hers were buried, and she had a sense of yours, but neither of you ever took the risk of stepping too close.

“Oh? Who’s that beside you?”

Your mother’s sudden shift in tone pulled you back. You barely had time to react before she gasped, her excitement practically radiating through the screen.

“Wait—this is your girlfriend?! You never told me what she was like! Oh, this is wonderful! You have to bring her over—I insist! Your father will want to meet her too!”

Your stomach twisted.

Your father.

Rion looked up at you, her blade stilling between her fingers. A silent question flickered in her gaze, but she didn’t press. She never did.

You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling slowly. You knew your mother. If you didn’t agree now, she’d just keep calling, pestering, until you caved. And no matter how complicated things were, you still had a soft spot for her.

So, with a resigned sigh, you nodded.

Rion leaned back against the couch, her lips curling into that familiar, teasing smirk.

“Guess I’m meeting the in-laws.”