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We sit at the kitchen table, plates piled high with the not-burnt lasagna.

“This is amazing,” he says through a mouthful.

“You’re just saying that because you haven’t had a homecooked meal in years.”

“Maybe.” He winks, then gets serious. “How are you holding up?”

I shrug, focusing on gathering as much cheese and noodle on my fork. “I’m good.”

“Sienna.” His tone is soft but firm, and it makes me look up.

“I broke up with Aaron.”

His eyebrows rise, but he doesn’t say anything right away.

“It wasn’t working,” I add quickly. “He’s a good guy, but it just wasn’t right.”

Dad nods slowly. “Well, if it wasn’t right, then you did the right thing. You deserve more than just ‘good.’ Long distance is hard.”

I smile, but it’s forced. “Thanks, Dad.”

We finish dinner talking about his team and their upcoming game. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I can breathe.

It’s good to be home.

The sunlight streaming through the window wakes me. I stretch and glance at the clock on my nightstand.

8:12 a.m.

“Dad?” I call out, but the house is quiet.

A note on the kitchen counter reads:Practice early. Back later. Love you, kiddo.

Of course. The man lives at the rink.

I pour myself a cup of coffee from the half-full pot he left behind, inhaling the familiar smell. It’s not great coffee, but it’ll do.

I lean against the counter, sipping slowly, staring out the window. I don’t really have a plan for today. That’s weirdly freeing, but also a little unsettling.

After finishing my coffee, I rinse the mug and wander to the pantry. There’s flour and stale sugar.

Cookies. I want to bake cookies.

But first, groceries. The pantry and fridge are basically empty, and I could use a reason to get out of the house.

I grab my keys and head out.

The supermarket hasn’t changed a bit. Same cracked tiles, same flickering overhead lights, same ancient carts that squeak like they’re begging for mercy.

I push the cart down the aisles, throwing in butter, eggs, milk, and whatever else looks good. A bag of chips? Sure. A box of brownie mix? Why not.

In the baking aisle, I grab extra chocolate chips and a little container of rainbow sprinkles. Because why not add a little rainbow to make the cookies fun?

At checkout, the cashier smiles at me. “Haven’t seen you around in a while, Sienna.”

“Just got back,” I say, handing over cash.

“Visiting or staying?”