The apartment smelled like garlic, onions, and oil still popping in the pan.
It hit Jup the second he stepped into the kitchen, warm and heavy, familiar in a way that made his stomach tighten before he even realized he was hungry.
The room was brighter than the hallway, yellow light spilling across the table and catching the chipped edges of bowls, the steam curling up from the food.
Dominique sat in her chair with her legs swinging, her spoon tapping against the bowl like she was conducting the entire apartment.
She looked up the moment Jup walked in, and her face lit up immediately.
“Oh,” she said, delighted.
“You got hit.”
Jup pulled out his chair slowly, his jaw still sore.
“Good evening to you too.”
“That was my good evening.”
“Dom,” Aya said from the stove without turning.
“What?” Dominique asked, already grinning.
“I’m noticing things. Isn’t that what smart people do?”
Jup sat carefully, trying not to aggravate the bruise.
“You notice too much.”
“No,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him like she was evaluating something serious.
“I notice exactly enough.”
She leaned forward slightly, studying his face with exaggerated focus before nodding once like she had reached a professional conclusion.
“Yeah,” she said.
“You definitely lost.”
“I didn’t lose.”
Dominique tilted her head.
“That’s a bold thing to say with your face doing… whatever that is.”
Jup reached for the bread.
“You’re lucky you’re little.”
“Little, fast, and undefeated.”
“Against who?”
She pointed the spoon at him.
“You. Emotionally.”
Jup opened his mouth to respond, but a voice from the doorway cut in first.
“I heard that from the hall,” it said, “and somehow she’s still being generous.”
Jup turned so fast his chair scraped.
Mark stood in the doorway with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, looking older than the last time Jup had seen him—not in a way that showed in years, but in the way his posture had settled and the way his eyes carried things he didn’t say out loud.
He was taller now, broader through the chest, and the resemblance to their father hit harder from certain angles than Jup liked to admit.
For a second, the room paused.
Then Dominique shrieked.
“Mark!”
She jumped out of her chair and launched herself at him.
He caught her easily with one arm, lifting her just enough to make her laugh.
“There you are,” he said, steadying her.
“You still talking too much?”
“You still ugly?”
“Worse now. College is doing damage.”
“That explains everything.”
Aya turned from the stove, and the tension she had been carrying all evening cracked just enough for a real smile to slip through.
“You could’ve called,” she said.
“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”
“For who?” Aya asked.
“You nearly stopped my heart.”
“But in a loving way,” Dominique added.
Mark dropped his bag near the wall and stepped farther into the room, and Jup was already on his feet.
They clasped hands first, firm and quick, the kind of greeting that came before anything else, and Mark pulled him into a brief hug anyway.
“You’re back early,” Jup said.
“Don’t sound so disappointed.”
“I’m not.”
Mark leaned back just enough to get a better look at him, and the shift in his expression was immediate when his eyes landed on Jup’s jaw.
“…Already?” he asked.
Jup sat back down.
“They started it.”
Mark pulled out the chair beside him.
“That line’s been getting people in trouble since forever.”
“It’s still true.”
“Usually is.”
Aya set the last dish on the table a little harder than necessary.
“And usually I’m the one standing at the sink with blood on a rag.”
That quieted the room.
Dominique glanced between them, then leaned toward Mark and whispered far too loudly,
“He looked worse before.”
Jup stared at her.
“Whose side are you on?”
“The side with the best story.”
“That’s not a side.”
“It is if you’re interesting.”
Mark let out a quiet laugh under his breath.
Jup pointed at her with a piece of bread.
“One day, you’re going to be annoying at the wrong time.”
Dominique sat back proudly.
“That sounds like future people’s problem.”
Aya closed her eyes briefly, like she was deciding whether to laugh or lose patience.
“Sit. Eat. Nobody talk for ten seconds.”
“No promises,” Dominique said.
“Dominique.”
“…Fine. Nine.”
That was enough to break it.
The room loosened as plates shifted and glasses clinked, Mark reaching for the rice while Dominique started talking again immediately like silence had physically hurt her.
Aya corrected her posture without looking, and Jup ate faster than he meant to, the food hot enough to sting his split lip, though he barely noticed.
For a little while, it felt normal—not perfect, not easy, but normal in the way that mattered.
The walls were still thin, the apartment still small, money still tight, and the city outside still the city outside.
But at the table, with Dominique talking too much, Mark back in his chair, and Aya pretending she wasn’t relieved to have everyone in one room again, the space felt full in a way the rest of the day hadn’t.
That feeling settled somewhere deeper than Jup expected.
Maybe that was why he noticed the shift so quickly.
His eyes lifted.
The box sat on the shelf above the counter, small, worn, and quiet.
It didn’t move, and it never moved, but it pulled at the room anyway like something that didn’t need to be touched to matter.
Jup’s gaze lingered there longer than it should have, and something tightened in his chest before he could stop it.
He didn’t understand why that box still felt heavier than everything else in the apartment combined.
Then he looked at Mark.
Mark had already seen him looking.
Their eyes met for half a second.
Same thought.
Same question.
What had their father actually left behind?
Mark looked away first and reached for his glass like the moment hadn’t happened.
Not tonight.
Jup understood that too.
He looked back down at his plate.
Dominique was arguing about something again, insisting she should be allowed to quit violin because “talent should come first.”
Aya disagreed. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Mark was smiling into his drink.
Everything looked the way it was supposed to.
But Jup felt it anyway.
That quiet shift underneath it.
The same one from earlier.
The same one from the court.
The same one from the window.
It didn’t belong here.
And for the first time, the thought came without him pushing it away.
I can’t let it reach this.
He didn’t say it out loud, and he didn’t even fully form it, but it stayed there anyway, low and steady, as the conversation moved around him and the apartment settled into the kind of warmth that only existed when everyone made it home.
And under it all, quiet as another chair at the table, the absence of their father sat with them anyway.
Dinner ended the way it always did—without ceremony, just motion.
Plates shifted.
Chairs scraped lightly against the floor.
Dominique was still talking.
Mark was still half-smiling into his glass.
Aya was already moving, collecting dishes before anyone could argue about it.
Jup stood when she did.
“I got it,” he said.
Aya didn’t look at him.
“You got hit today.”
“I can still wash dishes.”
“That’s not the point.”
He took the plate from her anyway.
For a second, it looked like she might say something else.
She didn’t.
They moved side by side at the sink, the rhythm quiet and familiar—water running, plates stacking, the soft scrape of ceramic against metal.
Dominique’s voice carried from the table.
“…and I’m just saying, if I don’t feel the music, then what’s the point of the music?”
“The point,” Mark said, “is that you’ve been playing for three weeks.”
“Three important weeks.”
Aya almost smiled.
Jup didn’t.
He kept his eyes on the water as it ran over his hands.
Aya spoke without looking at him.
“You’re quieter than usual.”
“I’m always quiet.”
“No,” she said.
“You’re quieter.”
That made him pause.
Only for a second.
“I’m fine.”
The words came out automatically.
Aya let the silence sit there between them.
Then—
“You keep saying that like it changes something.”
Jup rinsed another plate.
“What do you want me to say?”
She turned the water down slightly.
“Start with the truth.”
He exhaled once through his nose.
“They came at me,” he said.
“It didn’t last long.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Jup’s hands stilled in the water.
He didn’t answer right away.
Because the truth wasn’t clean anymore.
“I handled it,” he said finally.
Aya nodded once.
Not agreement.
Recognition.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
That landed quieter than anything she’d said earlier.
Jup looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
Aya dried her hands slowly.
“It means,” she said, “the moment you stop asking whether something’s worth handling… is the moment it starts changing you.”
Jup frowned slightly.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It will.”
She met his eyes.
“I don’t need you to win fights, Jureel.”
He held her gaze.
“I need you to come back from them.”
That sat there.
Heavy.
Unanswered.
From the table, Dominique’s chair scraped loudly.
“I’m getting more food,” she announced.
“You already had more food,” Mark said.
“That was before I got hungry again.”
“That’s not how that works.”
“It is for me.”
Aya turned away first, reaching for another plate.
“Go sit,” she said quietly.
Jup didn’t argue this time.
He dried his hands and stepped away from the sink.
He made it halfway back to the table when his wrist buzzed.
Subtle.
Quick.
His comm didn’t fully project—just a faint flicker of light across the surface.
No full display.
Just enough to register.
Jup slowed.
The flicker stabilized for half a second.
CMAS LOCAL INDEX UPDATE
SECTOR 7 — BACKEND SYNC COMPLETE
Then it shifted— too fast for anyone else to catch.
ANOMALY FLAG REVIEW
And it was gone.
No sound.
No alert.
Nothing that should have held his attention.
But it did.
Jup stopped walking.
“You good?”
Jup blinked once.
“Yeah.”
“You froze.”
“I didn’t.”
Mark held his gaze for a second longer than necessary.
Then leaned back again.
“Alright.”
But he didn’t look convinced.
Jup sat down.
The room kept moving.
Dominique was already eating again.
Aya moved between the counter and the table.
Mark reached for his drink.
Everything looked normal.
Felt normal.
But something had shifted again.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
Just enough.
Jup leaned back slightly in his chair, his fingers brushing the edge of his comm without activating it.
Anomaly flag.
That wasn’t something public systems displayed.
That wasn’t something students were supposed to see at all.
He hadn’t imagined it.
He knew he hadn’t.
Across the table, Mark was still watching him.
Not directly.
But enough.
Jup looked away first.
Because if Mark asked the wrong question— he didn’t have the right answer.
Dominique pointed her fork at him suddenly.
“You’re doing it again.”
Jup blinked.
“Doing what?”
“That thing,” she said.
“Where you leave but your body stays.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is,” she insisted.
“You get all quiet and weird and your face goes like—”
She made an exaggerated serious expression.
Mark laughed under his breath.
“That’s pretty accurate.”
Jup shook his head.
“You’re both annoying.”
“Emotionally undefeated,” Dominique corrected.
“Still not a real thing.”
“It is if I win.”
Aya set another dish down.
“You win by eating,” she said.
“Sit properly.”
Dominique straightened instantly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Then leaned toward Jup and whispered—
“Still undefeated.”
Jup almost smiled.
Almost.
The conversation moved again.
Easy.
Loud.
Normal.
But the feeling stayed.
Underneath it.
Quiet.
Steady.
The same one from earlier.
The same one from the court.
The same one from the window.
And now— something else layered on top of it.
Watching.
Not the kind you saw.
Not the kind you heard.
The kind that marked something.
Filed it.
Waited.
Jup’s grip tightened slightly around his fork.
He forced it to loosen.
Because none of that belonged here.
Not at this table.
Not in this room.
Not around them.
The thought came back— clearer this time.
Stronger.
I can’t let it reach this.
He didn’t say it.
Didn’t need to.
It settled into him anyway.
Low.
Quiet.
Certain.
And around him— the apartment stayed warm.
Dominique kept talking.
Mark kept laughing.
Aya kept moving like everything was still under control.
And for a little while longer— it was.
Even with the bruise in his jaw.
Even with the system flicker.
Even with something in the world starting to pay closer attention—
Jup sat there and ate.
And let normal exist.
For as long as it would.