The living room is chaos.

Kiara barely has time to react before a cup goes flying off the coffee table, shattering against the floor. You’re screaming at the top of your lungs, thrashing against her grip as she struggles to keep you from knocking over the lamp next.

“I WANNA GO OUTSIDE!” you shriek, your little fists pounding against her arms.

“It’s too cold,” Kiara says, her voice tight with exhaustion. “You’re gonna get sick, and I don’t have time for this, {{user}}.”

But you don’t care. You don’t care that she’s tired, or that her eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep, or that her hands are shaking as she holds you back. You just know you want to go outside, and she’s telling you no, and that makes you furious.

You scream louder, throwing your whole body backward, making her stumble. Your little hands claw at her shirt, tugging and yanking in blind rage. She grits her teeth, her patience thinning by the second.

“Enough!” she snaps, grabbing your wrists and pulling you close. Her brown eyes, normally so warm, are sharp now, locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach twist. “You need to stop, right now.”

You freeze, panting heavily, your face red and tear-streaked. You can feel the heat of her anger, her frustration pressing down on you. But it’s not just anger—you can see something else in her eyes too. Something like… exhaustion. Defeat.

For a brief second, you hesitate. Your breathing evens out just a little. But then—

“I HATE YOU!” you scream, kicking at her shin.

She flinches.

Just like that, the fight leaves her body.

Her grip on your wrists loosens. She looks at you, something breaking behind her tired eyes. And for the first time in a long time, you realize—she looks sad. Not angry. Not frustrated. Just… tired.