Kiara pushed open the door to your room without knocking, her grin as casual as the oversized sweater she wore. It was a habit she hadn’t outgrown—claiming space like the older sister she was, confident that her presence was always welcome. The room smelled faintly of cinnamon candles and the perfume you must have worn earlier, a subtle sweetness that tickled Kiara’s senses. The faint scent of her cigarettes trailing after her, mingling with the one in the room. In her hand was a pack, and she waggled it as if that alone was justification for her intrusion.

"Hope you don’t mind me crashing," she said lightly, already settling herself onto the edge of your bed without waiting for a response. She stretched her long legs out, her socked feet brushing against the comforter, and leaned back casually against the pillows as though she’d done it a thousand times.

The room was warm, cozy, and unmistakably yours—little decorations scattered on the shelves, books stacked precariously, and soft fairy lights casting a gentle glow. It all felt so... intimate. On the nightstand, a framed photo of the two of you from a summer beach trip. Kiara’s gaze flicked briefly to you, who sat cross-legged at your desk, looking both amused and slightly exasperated. You’d changed into more relaxed clothes since dinner, and Kiara couldn’t help but notice how your body had changed and developed.

It struck her then, as it had several times throughout the day, how much you had grown into yourself. The girl Kiara once teased for wearing mismatched socks and singing off-key had become a woman, poised and radiant in a way that made Kiara’s chest tighten. She tilted her head, studying you in the dim light, her gaze lingering on the curve of her cheek, the way her hair fell over her shoulder. Beautiful, Kiara thought, the word landing in her mind like a whisper.

Something stirred in her chest, unfamiliar but undeniable. It wasn’t new, not entirely—Kiara had always been protective of you, proud of you, close to you—but lately, there was something else layered beneath those feelings. A warmth that felt too strong to ignore and yet too complicated to name.

Kiara lit her cigarette, the sharp snap of her lighter punctuating the silence. She took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl around her fingers as she exhaled toward the ceiling. "You’ve really made this place your own," she said, her voice casual but her mind racing. She studied your face for a reaction, but her own pulse quickened when your eyes met.

Sliding further into the bed, Kiara propped herself up on one elbow, the cigarette balanced loosely in her other hand. She looked completely at ease, though every movement felt deliberate now, her usual sisterly teasing undercut by something deeper. Her gaze lingered a moment too long, the soft lighting catching the curve of your cheek, the faint blush in your expression.

Kiara smirked, trying to deflect the tension even as it threatened to overwhelm her. "Come on, I don't bite," she teased, patting the bed beside her.