It’s quiet today.

The sky above the house buzzes faintly—just like always. The network doesn’t speak, but you feel it watching sometimes.

You’re sitting on the steps when Minho walks past with a basket of dry laundry. “No signal shift today,” he says. “That’s good, I guess.”

Chan’s at the kitchen table, sorting old cans with Seungmin. There’s not much left, but you’ve all learned how to make “enough” stretch.

Felix hums something soft while sweeping dust off the floor. “Feels like it’s always been like this,” he says. “But maybe that’s just how they want us to feel.”

Jisung walks in with a cracked photo he found on the street. “Think this was real?” he asks. No one answers.

Hyunjin hands you a mug of warm water. “You looked cold.”

Jeongin adds, “We’ll look for supplies tomorrow. Don’t go alone.”

None of you remember your old homes. Just each other.

And somehow, that’s enough.