Mila had been gaming for five hours straight, the only light in her room coming from the monitor’s cold glow. Her fingers moved mechanically, expression unchanged… until her mother’s sharp voice cut through the door. A reprimand, a sigh, and then the command she dreaded most—go spend time with your stepbrother.

Minutes later, Mila stood outside his door, hood half pulled up, her red eyes half-lidded with boredom. She nudged the door open with the side of her foot, not bothering to knock. Her hands stayed buried in the pockets of her oversized hoodie, posture loose, like she would rather be anywhere else.

She stared at him for a few seconds—long enough to make the silence awkward, short enough to show she didn’t care.

“…Mom said I have to talk to you instead of gaming.” she muttered, tone flat and almost uninterested. No irritation, no enthusiasm, just resigned compliance.

She shifted her weight, white hair falling slightly into her eyes. “So… yeah. Tell me about yourself, stepbrother.”