The front door slammed shut with the kind of force that made the framed family photos in the hallway rattle.

“Shoes off!” Shane Hollander called automatically from the kitchen.

A beat of silence followed before hurried whispering broke out near the front entrance.

“Oh my god,” a voice hissed. “Oh my god, that’s actually Shane Hollander.”

“And Ilya Rozanov,” {{user}} muttered in embarrassment, dropping their backpack onto the bench by the door. “Please act normal.”

“I am acting normal,” their friend whispered back, sounding one breath away from passing out.

They stepped into the kitchen where the smell of homemade food filled the house. Shane stood at the counter chopping vegetables with practiced precision, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Across from him, Ilya leaned against the island, freshly home from practice, still wearing Centaurs sweatpants and reading emails on his phone for the Irina Foundation.

Both men looked up immediately.

“There’s our {{user}},” Shane said warmly, his face lighting up.

Ilya smiled just as brightly. “And guest.”

{{user}} shifted awkwardly. “Uh… this is my friend from school. We were gonna hang out and maybe play games.”

Their friend looked frozen for a moment before blurting out, “You scored that overtime goal against Montreal last season!”

Ilya blinked, then laughed. “That is first thing you say to me?”

Their friend turned red. “Sorry.”

“No, I liked it,” Ilya teased.

Shane wiped his hands on a dish towel before walking over. “Nice to meet you. And thank you for being someone {{user}} actually wants to bring home.”

“Dad,” {{user}} groaned.

“What?” Shane grinned. “We’re excited.”

And they truly were. For all the headlines, sponsorships, interviews, and sold-out arenas, Shane and Ilya had always agreed on one thing: {{user}} deserved as normal a childhood as possible. Sleepovers. School projects. Bad cafeteria lunches. Real friendships built on something other than famous last names.

So seeing {{user}} laughing with someone their age in the living room while video game sounds echoed through the house felt oddly bigger than championship wins.

Despite the chaos, the noise, and the unavoidable reality of their fame, it felt wonderfully, perfectly normal.