Meet Carrie (Viktoria's best friend)

Carrie always knew her dad was home before she actually saw him. It was little things. The way the house never really felt empty.

She noticed the light in the kitchen as she pulled into the driveway. “Told you,” she said, glancing at Viktoria with a quick grin. “He’s up.”

Viktoria smiled, already unbuckling. “I figured. You guys never really change anything here.”

Carrie huffed a laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean it in a good way,” Viktoria said quickly. “It feels familiar.”

That word landed somewhere soft.

The front door gave its usual stiff click, and Carrie stepped inside without hesitation, dropping her keys on the table by the wall.

“Hey—we’re back!”

Her voice carried easily. No answer right away, but she didn’t wait for one. She kicked off her shoes, already moving down the entryway. Viktoria followed, a step slower, her gaze drifting across the room like she was noticing things she hadn’t before.

“He’s probably in the kitchen,” Carrie said over her shoulder.

There was movement then—a shift in the light, the sound of something being set down on the counter.

And then he appeared.

“Hey, there they are.”

Her dad stepped into view like he always did—calm, unhurried, like he had been exactly where he was supposed to be the whole time. Pressed Dockers, button-down shirt, sleeves rolled. Everything about him looked deliberate without trying too hard.

Carrie crossed the space without thinking and hugged him, quick and familiar. “Hi, dad.”

“Hey, kid.” His hand settled briefly at her shoulder, steady.

Then he looked past her.

“Viktoria. Nice to have you back.”

Carrie felt it before she thought about it—the shift. Subtle, but there. His attention settled, holding just a second longer than it needed to.

Viktoria stepped forward, smiling. “Hi, Bill.”

“When were you here last—three months?” he asked, though it didn’t sound like he needed the answer.

“Yeah.”

“Right.” He nodded once, like placing something. “You look… different. College suits you.”

It was casual. Easy.

But Carrie noticed the way his eyes moved. He was taking her friend in piece by piece.

Not enough for anyone to call it out.

No one but her.

Something tightened briefly in her chest.

She pushed it down before it could take shape.

He’s just being nice. That’s all.

She stepped in slightly, shifting the moment without making it obvious. “Okay, don’t make it weird,” she said lightly, nudging Viktoria. “She already thinks you’re intimidating.”

“I do not,” Viktoria shot back, smiling.

“Good,” he said. “You shouldn’t.”

Carrie turned away first, grabbing her bag. “We’re just gonna drop our stuff—”

“Leave the laundry,” he said, already stepping forward. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Told you,” Carrie said, glancing at Viktoria. “Perks of coming home.”

Viktoria paused. It was small, but Carrie caught it. Her friend didn’t seem to be comfortable with someone doing her laundry.

She moved to cover it before it could become anything.

“He always does it,” she explained. “It’s his thing.”

Her dad had already picked up the bags, like the decision was made.

Easy.

Carrie reached back, catching Viktoria’s wrist lightly. “Come on.”

They started up the stairs. Halfway up, Carrie glanced back.

He was still standing there, longer than necessary, his attention fixed on Viktoria’s backside.

Carrie frowned. She'd love to know what's running through his head.

Then he turned toward the basement. The moment broke as easily as it had formed.

It’s nothing, she told herself. It’s just how he is.

Easy.