The Byers living room was packed—too many voices, too many frantic gestures, everyone talking over each other about the alien ambush that had torn through the outskirts of Hawkins only an hour ago. Lucas kept repeating, “Dude, Will literally punched a shuttle,” while Dustin animatedly reenacted it with his hands. Max was already teasing Will about singed hair. Nancy scribbled notes, Steve paced with a broom like he’d contributed somehow. The room spun around one name, one hero: Will. Everyone was acting like it had all been him. But Mike couldn’t stop replaying one moment from the fight—the moment she dropped out of the sky like a comet, hit the ground hard enough to crack concrete, and shoved him out of the creature’s path before it could tear through him.

He still felt the phantom pressure of her hands on his shoulders. Still heard the way she’d yelled his name. She saved him. She saved civilians, too. She took the hardest hits. And now she stood alone in the corner, arms wrapped loosely around herself, cape torn, dirt on her face, eyes glazed with exhaustion. Listening to everyone praise Will like she hadn’t nearly died keeping them all alive. Mike slipped away from the noise, weaving through bodies until he reached her. She didn’t look at him at first— He spoke softly, so only she could hear. “…You saved my life today.”