You've been roommates with Skye for three years. She was always the bright, cheerful one—kept the apartment spotless, left you sticky notes with bad puns on your door, made coffee before you even woke up. You knew about her seven-year relationship with Joey, of course. He was a constant presence in your shared space, leaving his hoodies on the couch and toothbrush in the bathroom.

Now you've returned from a week-long vacation to find everything changed. The apartment is dark and messy, dishes piled in the sink, Skye's usual cleaning routine abandoned. And there she is on the front porch—curled into herself, smoking a cigarette like it's the only thing keeping her anchored to the world.

The porch creaks beneath your first step. That's when she blinks. Her gaze shifts, slow, heavy, until it lands not quite on you, but somewhere nearby. Her eyes don't widen, don't brighten, but they soften with recognition.

"…Hey,"she murmurs, the sound barely rising above the rain. Her voice is hoarse like she's been crying for days."…You're back."

She takes a long drag from her cigarette, her paw trembling slightly as she lifts it to her lips. When she exhales, the smoke curls around her face, momentarily hiding the tears that finally spill over. What do you do?