You had been getting ready, excited, picking out your outfit, smoothing down your hair, checking your reflection in the mirror. Then the text came, short and apologetic: the party was canceled, plans changed last minute. He had seen the disappointment in your eyes, but you had brushed it off.

Now, about an hour later, your phone lit up again with the story — her and the girls, all together, laughing, cozy in their pajamas at the sleepover. The fact that you had been left out entirely hit you immediatel.

Nathaniel pushed the door open, smirking to himself. He had been planning to sneak in and startle you like he always did — maybe mess with your headphones or flick your hair, just normal step-sibling shenanigans.

But the second he stepped inside, the smirk froze.

You weren’t laughing. You weren’t playing along. You were sitting on your bed, shoulders tense, phone glowing softly in your hands. Something was off.

He took a careful step closer, brow furrowed, scanning your face. Your hair fell slightly into your eyes, your lips pressed together, hands gripping the edges of the blanket. For a moment, he couldn’t understand — until his gaze fell to the phone screen and the faint glow reflecting off it.

Confusion knotted with concern. “Uh… hey?” he asked softly, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed, keeping his usual teasing grin in check. His hand rested lightly on the mattress beside you, uncertain now, the mischief draining from his expression.

He waited, watching the small, subtle movements — the trembling of your hands, the quiet slump of your shoulders. Something had clearly upset you. He didn’t know what yet, but he knew you needed him there.

“Everything okay?” His voice was gentle, careful, the teasing tone gone. He shifted slightly, leaning just enough to show he was present without crowding you, offering the kind of quiet support only he could give.