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She follows me inside, bouncing like she’s fifteen again. “Your daughter was starving and living in darkness. Have mercy.”

I smirk. “You could've ordered something or gone out to get your own groceries. And called an electrician.”

I set the bags on the kitchen counter, and follow her toward the back hallway where the fuse box is.

“It went out around nine last night,” she says, flipping on her phone flashlight. “I was watching that dumb new dating show and boom. Blackout.”

“You slept in darkness all night? You didn't think to call an electrician?”

She frowns, squinting at the wall panel as I unscrew it. “Idid. He said he couldn’t come until tomorrow. I slept at Derek’s.”

“I’ve tried to teach you how to do this. You know, it isn't that difficult.”

“That’s what Wren says,” she smirks. “You know she's quite good with stuff like this. I was always calling her to fix the fuse box at my former apartment. One of her weird hidden talents. I’d have called her last night but she’s already stretched too thin. I didn’t want to add ‘electrician’ to her calendar.”

“Yeah, she is quite busy.”

“I know. Product launch and all. How’s it going?”

I grunt, focusing on the wiring. “Going well.”

“That’s good to hear.”

I reconnect a loose neutral wire while Jen watches.

“So… you two good?”

I test the circuit. The hallway light flickers on. “Define good.”

“Oh?”

“She’s quiet these days.”

“Wren does that.”

I don’t respond.

She walks into the kitchen to unpack groceries while I put the tools away. The silence between us isn’t heavy, but it hangs there. Like a question that hasn’t found its shape yet.

“You look like hell, by the way. Did I mention that already?”

“Thanks,” I mutter, returning to the kitchen to help unload organic vegetables into her refrigerator. “When did you start eating kale?”

“Don't change the subject. What's going on with you and Wren?”

I shrug. “Nothing. We're maintaining appearances.”

Jen leans against the counter, arms folded. “Right.”

“It's complicated.”

“No, differential equations are complicated. This is simple. You've fallen for her.”

My stomach clenches, but I don't answer, focusing on arranging yogurt containers with unnecessary precision.

“Dad.” Jen's voice softens. “I see the shift in you. The way you talk about her now, with this careful reverence. Like she's something precious.”

I sigh, leaning against the counter.