He’s frozen, as if his whole body pauses because his brain just hit a memory it didn’t prepare for.
Wren’s smile falters as her eyes follow mine.
The room goes quiet in that unnatural, electric way that happens when history walks into a space you didn’t clear for it.
Kai’s throat bobs.
He looks…stunned.
Like his mouth forgot how to work.
“You’re back,” he blurts.
Wren’s eyes sharpen for half a second, then soften again like she’s practicing calm.
“I’m back,” she says, her voice steady. “Hi, Kai.”
Kai’s jaw tightens.
His gaze flicks to me, like he’s realizing I’m here in the middle of this, watching it happen, and it’s not fair.
It’s not fair to any of us.
He swallows hard and looks back at Wren, eyes too bright in a way that makes my stomach twist.
Then he does the least Kai thing possible.
He bolts.
Not literally running, but the emotional version of running.
He steps toward the door, one hand already on the knob like the room is on fire.
“I—” He exhales hard. “I’ll…I’ll let you two talk.”
Wren’s mouth tightens.
“Okay,” she says.
Kai nods once, sharp, like he’s confirming a decision.
Then he’s gone.
The door clicks shut behind him with the careful quiet of someone trying not to make it worse.
The silence after is thick.
Wren blinks a few times, apparently just as dazed and confused as I feel about whateverthatwas. Then she looks at me like she wants to laugh and scream at the same time.
I exhale. “Well.”
Wren’s mouth twitches. “That was…awkward.”
“That wasveryawkward,” I confirm.
Wren steps into the room fully and drops the bags and balloons on my chair like she owns it, then turns back to me and opens her arms again.
“Come here,” she says.
