Lily stood by the window, arms wrapped around herself.

The rain tapped lightly on the glass, casting blurred shadows across the wooden floor. Theo was behind her, sprawled on the couch with his phone in hand, legs crossed, one ankle resting on a knee. He hadn’t looked up in ten minutes.

“You forgot,” Lily said.

Her voice was soft, but it struck like a match in the still room.

Theo didn’t flinch. “Forgot what?”

She turned to face him fully now. “My gallery opening. Tonight.”

He blinked slowly. “Shit,” he said, barely convincing. “That was tonight?”

“You said you’d come. You promised.”

He finally looked at her then, dark eyes unreadable. “I had things to do.”

Lily stared at him like she didn’t recognize him. “What things?”

Theo sat up with a stretch, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Don’t start.”

“You always do this, Mattheo. You’re there for her every time she has something. Her piano recitals. Her stupid little poetry readings. You’re always front row.” Her voice cracked on the last word, bitterness curling around it.

His jaw flexed, something cool flickering in his expression. “Don’t bring her into this.”

“Why not?” she snapped. “God forbid I say what everyone else is already thinking.”

Theo stood. Slowly. Carefully. “What exactly do you think, Lily?”

She stepped forward, fists clenched. “I think you care more about my little sister than you do about me.”

The air in the room shifted. Theo didn’t shout. He never did. His calm was what made her feel like she was losing her mind.

“That’s not true,” he said smoothly. “But if you’re so insecure that her happiness threatens you—”

“Don’t twist this,” she hissed. “This isn’t about insecurity. This is about you forgetting the woman you’re actually dating.”

“I didn’t forget,” he lied. “I had something come up. She asked me to fix her bike, remember? You told me to help her—”

“That was three days ago!”

He shrugged. “She wanted to ride it to class this week.”

Lily’s throat tightened. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re obsessed with her.”

He stepped closer, voice low, dangerous in its softness. “You’re jealous of her. And that’s not a good look.”

Lily’s hand twitched at her side. “You’re disgusting.”

Theo tilted his head, studied her with something like pity. “You’re scared she’ll stop needing you. Because she has me.”

Before she could scream at him, before she could sob or hit or collapse — the front door clicked.

A second of stillness.

And then the door creaked open.

Benicio stepped inside, his headphones resting around his neck, still humming faintly with music. He took one glance at the tense scene—Lily, red-eyed and shaking; Mattheo, pacing like a caged animal—and didn’t say a word.

Just a tired sigh.

He slipped off his jacket, slung it over the bannister, and moved past them without comment. The house always sounded like this when they were unraveling.

As he climbed the stairs, the volume of their argument dulled behind him, swallowed by the creaks of old wood and quiet hum of night. He padded down the hallway to your room, knocking softly before nudging the door open.

It was dark except for the moonlight pouring in through the blinds, casting silver lines across the floor.

And there you were.

Tucked into bed, blankets pulled up to her chin, breathing slow and even. One hand clutched the worn, caramel-colored teddy bear he’d given you last Christmas—the one you’d named Sombra because “he smells like you,” you’d told him once, sleepy-eyed.

Benicio’s shoulders relaxed. He leaned against the doorframe, watching you for a long, silent beat. Safe. Untouched by the chaos downstairs. He smiled faintly.

“Mi lucecita...” he murmured under his breath, barely audible. “You sleep through earthquakes, huh?”

He stepped in quietly, adjusting the blanket that had slipped down from your shoulder, brushing a stray curl from your cheek. He smiles when your eyes flutter open.