Sara's POV
The morning sun filtered softly across the dining room, warm against polished wood. Sara descended the stairs expecting the usual quiet breakfast with her mother. Instead, her father was already seated at the table, a rare sight. He normally rushed out before dawn; long gone by the time she woke.
"Morning," she said cautiously, sliding into her seat.
Her mother smiled knowingly, pouring tea. "Morning, sweetheart."
Her father set down his newspaper, eyes sharp but not unkind. "So… Amy."
Sara froze halfway through reaching for the butter. "What about her?"
Her mother's lips curved with that I-told-him look. "I may have mentioned something."
Heat rose in Sara's cheeks. "Mom!"
Her father leaned forward, folding his hands. "If she's important to you, I want to meet her."
"It's not—" Sara started, but the words tangled. Not serious? Not official? The memory of Amy's stunned joy when she'd kissed her only days ago surged back too vividly to deny.
Her father's voice softened. "Dinner tonight. Invite her."
Sara hesitated, torn between dread and the flutter in her chest. She wasn't ready for this… and yet, maybe she was.
Her mother nudged her gently. "It's just dinner, Sara. You'll see."
Reluctantly, she nodded. "Fine. I'll call her after breakfast."
And with that, the weight of the day shifted, everything suddenly leading toward one moment she couldn't take back.
…
Amy's POV
Tuesday slipped by quietly, the kind of day that might have gone unnoticed if not for the people she spent it with.
In the morning, she met Lumi and Risa as usual — laughter spilling easily between them, their conversation light, almost ordinary. Later, she cooked lunch for the two of them, filling the table with simple dishes that warmed the room. They lingered longer than planned, teasing one another, letting stories stretch. For a few hours, Amy felt like any other girl, not someone carrying the weight of futures lost.
When her friends left, she turned back to the house. The basement still demanded her attention, blueprints sprawled across the table, the hum of quiet renovations echoing in her mind. She worked until dusk blurred the lines on the page, stopping only when exhaustion pulled her upstairs.
Nothing remarkable happened. And yet, those small moments — laughter, warmth, the scrape of a chair across the floor — lingered more than she expected.
…
Wednesday Morning
Amy had just finished her breakfast when her phone buzzed. She wiped her hands absently, glanced at the screen, and froze.
[Sara Ilyra Veylan]
Her pulse stuttered. She slid her finger across the screen. "Hello?"
Sara's voice came through, steady but tinged with something cautious. "Hey. Are you busy tonight?"
"No, why?"
There was a pause — not hesitation, exactly, but the kind that made Amy sit straighter.
"I'd like you to come over. For dinner. My parents want to meet you."
For a moment, Amy's mind blanked. Her parents. Dinner. Tonight. She should think, should consider, should weigh her words carefully. Instead, her mouth betrayed her.
"Yes!"
The word tumbled out far too quickly, bright and unguarded. She winced, scrambling to recover. "I mean—yes, I'd love to."
Sara's chuckle was soft. "Good. I'll text you the time."
"Okay," Amy breathed, far too faintly. "See you then."
They said their goodbyes, the call ended, and the kitchen fell silent again. Amy set her phone down, stared at it, and felt reality crash into her all at once.
She was meeting Sara's parents.
Tonight.
Her hands flew to her hair, tugging lightly as she paced. "Oh no. No, no, no."
She grabbed her phone again and scrolled frantically through her contacts until Risa's name flashed on the screen. The call rang once. Twice. Then—
"Hello?"
"Risa!" Amy's voice came out too fast, too high. "Okay, listen, don't laugh, but I think I'm dying."
"…What?"
"I mean—not literally, but maybe actually. Sara just—she called—and dinner—and her parents—and I said yes without thinking and now I can't breathe and I don't know what to wear and I think I'm going to—"
"Amy." Risa's voice cut through like cool water. "Breathe."
Amy stopped pacing only to clutch the phone tighter. "I don't know what happened. I was fine, and then she asked, and I panicked and said yes, and now I'm panicking because I said yes."
On the other end, she could almost hear Risa rubbing her forehead. "Amy. It's just dinner."
"With her parents!"
"Yes. Not the end of the world."
Amy groaned. "You don't understand. I don't do this. I can face monsters, Risa, I can fight through ruin and ash, but parents? No. No, no, no."
There was a long silence. Then Risa's voice softened. "You like her, don't you?"
Amy froze. The answer was too obvious, too raw to deny. "…Yes."
"Then you'll be fine."
Amy closed her eyes, exhaling shakily. For a moment, the panic ebbed — until she looked down at herself: loose sweatshirt, faded jeans, hair unbrushed.
"Clothes," she whispered, horrified. "Risa, what do I wear? I can't show up like this. I need help. I need both you and Lumi, immediately."
Finally, Risa laughed. "I'll come. We'll figure it out. Worst case, Lumi digs through your closet until she finds something that doesn't scream 'apocalypse survivor pretending to be normal'."