The screen lit up just as Sunny was tugging her signature orange cap into place, one hand already on the doorknob, ready for a walk.
Zane.
Her heart jumped—just a little. Two weeks. That's how long it had been since he left, since that kiss, since that train door closed between them like a scene from a movie she hadn't agreed to star in. And yet… she didn't hesitate. She picked up immediately.
"Hey," she said, her voice soft.
A breath. Then his voice, low and bright with emotion."God, it's good to hear your voice again."
She smiled instinctively, the kind of smile that tugged at her cheeks before she could control it.
"I've missed you," he added. "So much. You don't even know."
Her smile faltered slightly, just at the edges. "It's been a while."
"I know," Zane said, a bit sheepish. "These two weeks have been… hectic doesn't even cover it. But I swear, Sunny, not a single moment passed where I wasn't thinking of you."
Sunny paused, leaning slightly against the door frame, the cool metal beneath her fingers grounding her as she stared at the closed door.
"I figured something big was going on," she said. "You've never been good at multitasking."
Zane chuckled. "Ouch. But fair."
"So?" she asked, feigning casualness. "What's the chaos been about?"
He hesitated a moment—just for effect, she suspected—before dropping the bomb.
"I got signed, Sunny. A real label. Big name. Like… legit-big."
She blinked. "Wait. You're serious?"
"I'm serious," he said, and she could hear the stunned smile in his voice. "Like... interviews, contracts, they even assigned me a mentor. I've barely had time to sleep."
Sunny exhaled, shaking her head with a grin. "Classic Zane. Always chasing the next big thing."
He laughed. "Hey, I prefer to call it ambition."
"I prefer to call it exhaustion," she teased.
Zane's laughter softened. "I wanted to tell you sooner. I really did."
"I believe you."
There was a pause. A meaningful one.
"I wish you were here," he said. "I keep looking for your reactions in rooms you're not in."
Sunny's fingers tightened around the phone. "You'll get used to the silence," she joked, though it came out quieter than she meant.
"I don't want to."
Before she could respond, a sharp voice interrupted in the background—
"Mr. Callahan!"
Zane froze. His entire tone shifted. "Shit."
"What was that?" Sunny asked, already sensing it.
He inhaled sharply. "Sunny, I'm so sorry. I have to hang up."
"Zane—?"
"I'll call you later, I promise—"
Click.
The line went dead.
Sunny stared at her phone.
---
Originally, Sunny had just been heading out to meet Amelia. A casual catch-up, nothing too heavy. But then she got the text — Nico would be joining them. Apparently, he was staying in the city for a while. A work project. Temporary, but still… funny how familiar that sounded.
Someone else had said something similar not that long ago.
Zane.
She adjusted her cap before stepping out, brushing off the thought. She wasn't going to let a five-minute phone call cloud her mood.
But it had.
When she arrived at the café, she did her best to play it cool — smiled, waved, maybe laughed a little louder than usual. Amelia greeted her with a cheerful hug, and Nico chimed in with his usual easygoing charm. It should have been nice. Comforting, even.
---
Amelia had found them a quiet table near the window — one of those places where the light felt soft and lived-in, warming the wood and casting faint shadows across their drinks. Sunny slid into the seat across from Nico without thinking. Not intentionally. It just… happened.
They eased into conversation like old friends. Amelia carried most of it, catching Nico up on recent design work and teasing him about something he'd posted online. He rolled with it, his laugh easy, his voice low and amused. Sunny chimed in when she could, but mostly she stirred her drink and listened, her thoughts drifting elsewhere.
She wasn't upset. Not exactly. Just… off.
Two weeks of silence, and then Zane's voice for barely five minutes. She was happy for him — of course she was — but that didn't quiet the ache of how distant everything suddenly felt. Not just him. Her music. Her focus. Her sense of self.
She glanced out the window, eyes tracing the slow arc of people passing on the street. The world was still turning. It always was.
But still.
The loneliness settled like a faint hum in her chest, low and persistent — a melody she couldn't quite shake.
"So," Nico said, drawing her attention back. He leaned slightly forward, elbow on the table, chin propped on his hand. "You still working on those solo mixes?"
Sunny blinked. "Huh? Oh — yeah. A little."
He smiled. "Bet they sound like you."
She tilted her head. "Like me?"
"Yeah," he said, with a casual shrug. "Honest. Bright. A little chaotic, but in a good way."
The corners of her mouth lifted — not in a full smile, but something close. And then, just as quickly, it faltered. Not because she didn't like what he said. But because it felt too kind. Too true.
She didn't know how to respond.
Thankfully, Amelia slid a pastry across the table, lightening the moment with a grin and some half-joke about sugar therapy. Sunny chuckled, grateful for the distraction.
But as the conversation carried on, she caught it — Nico glancing at her again. Once. Twice.
Not long stares. Not intrusive.
Just… moments.
Moments where his gaze lingered like he was trying to read a lyric she hadn't written yet.
He didn't say anything. Didn't push. He respected what she had with Zane — she knew that. He was just being… Nico. Kind. Thoughtful. Quietly present.
Still, the way their eyes met — and the way he quickly looked away — left something unspoken between them. Something that wasn't quite romantic. Wasn't even flirtation.
Just a flicker.
Not a spark.
Not a threat.
Just a what if.
And maybe, in the quiet of her heart, Sunny felt it too — the pull of something that wasn't quite temptation, but a reminder.
That she missed being seen.
And Zane… wasn't here.
Not yet.
---
Amelia didn't notice it at first — too caught up in chatting, sipping her drink, laughing at something Nico had said about city traffic being "basically performance art." But once she did notice it, her jaw nearly dropped.
No. No way.
She caught the flicker in Nico's eyes. The way he listened just a little more carefully when Sunny spoke. The way he kept his tone light, but his gaze… lingered. Not for long. Not inappropriate. Just… intentional.
Internally, Amelia screamed.
Absolutely not. No way. Are we seriously in a triangle arc now?
She tried to hide it — kept her voice steady, her smile playful — but inside, her mind was sprinting laps. Zane's barely been gone two weeks. Nico, what are you doing. Sunny, do you not see this?!
Nico eventually stood, brushing pastry crumbs from his sleeves. "I should probably go," he said, glancing at the time. "Meeting up with a couple old friends before they drag me into karaoke or something."
He grinned — charming as always — and slung his coat over one arm. "I'll catch you guys later, yeah?"
Sunny gave a small nod. "Yeah. Have fun."
But before turning away, Nico glanced back — just for a moment. His eyes met Sunny's. And then he was gone.
Amelia didn't say anything right away. She just watched the door close behind him. Blinked. Sipped her drink.
Then her gaze slid — slowly, suspiciously — toward Sunny.
Sunny, still finishing the last of her pastry, didn't look up.
"What," Sunny said without even glancing, "is that look for?"
Amelia's eyes narrowed. "That wasn't just a look. That was a last look."
Sunny finally looked at her. "A what?"
"A last look," Amelia said, pointing with her straw. "He threw the whole glance-back thing. Sunny, come on. You've seen movies."
Sunny blinked. "He's just being nice."
Amelia leaned forward, lowering her voice like the café might have ears. "Girl. That was not a 'nice' look. That was a 'we'll always have Paris' kind of look. Like... lingering."
Sunny flushed, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and awkward laughter. "He knows I'm with Zane."
"I know he knows. I'm just saying… I think Nico might be playing the long game."
Sunny didn't answer right away. Just stirred her drink again, suddenly far more interested in the foam than the conversation.
Amelia softened. "Hey. You okay?"
"Yeah," Sunny said quietly. "Just thinking."
She didn't elaborate — and Amelia didn't press.
But inside, that glance sat between them like a skipped beat in a familiar rhythm.
---
They walked for a while after — Amelia had insisted on it, under the pretense of "burning off croissant energy," but Sunny knew better. She didn't mind, though. The afternoon had settled into that warm, golden hush, and the streets buzzed with soft summer life.
Still, Sunny hadn't said much since they left the café.
And Amelia… she noticed.
They reached a quieter street, a block of apartments and dusty bookshops, when Amelia finally broke the silence.
"Okay," she said, hands tucked into the pockets of her denim jacket. "You gonna tell me what that was really about back there?"
Sunny looked over, brows knitting. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Amelia said, turning to face her mid-step, "you've been floating since the second we sat down. Nico could've confessed he was an alien from Mars and you wouldn't have noticed. What's going on?"
Sunny stopped walking.
She stared at the sidewalk for a moment, toe nudging a fallen leaf. And then — like a balloon finally punctured — she let it out.
"Zane called."
Amelia blinked. "Wait, what? When?"
"This morning. Just before I left to meet you."
Amelia stepped closer. "And…?"
Sunny let out a soft, dry laugh. "And it lasted all of five minutes. Maybe less."
"Was he okay?"
"He sounded happy," Sunny admitted. "Said he missed me. Said he was thinking about me the whole time."
"Well… that's good, right?"
Sunny shook her head, slowly. "It should be."
Amelia waited.
"He got signed," Sunny said quietly. "To a major label. It's huge. It's what he's always wanted."
Amelia's eyes widened. "Sunny, that's amazing. That's—wait, are you—?"
"I'm happy for him," Sunny cut in. "I am. But…"
The word hung in the air. She didn't need to finish it.
"…he hung up," Sunny added softly. "Mid-sentence. Someone called his name — 'Mr. Whatever,' and poof. Gone."
Amelia's heart ached. "And he hasn't called since?"
Sunny looked down. "Two weeks. Barely a text. Then that."
Amelia was quiet for a moment. Then: "Do you want to wait for him?"
Sunny opened her mouth. Closed it.
"I don't know," she whispered. "I don't want to give up. But I also… I don't want to keep feeling like I'm the only one still standing here."
Amelia gently bumped her shoulder. "You're not alone. I'm here. And yeah, I noticed the Nico thing too — don't give me that look — but I know that's not what this is about. You're hurt. And you're allowed to be."
Sunny nodded, eyes glassy now, though no tears fell. "It just sucks, you know?"
"Yeah," Amelia said. "It does."
They stood there for a while, letting the weight of it settle — not trying to fix it, just… holding it.
Then Amelia, soft but firm, added: "You deserve someone who calls you back. Who shows up."
Sunny let the words sink in.
And for the first time all day, she didn't deflect with a smile.
She just nodded.
---
They had no destination — just walking, letting the city hum around them. Amelia had been doing most of the talking, a quiet comfort to Sunny's silence.
But then the silence broke — not by words, but by the low, throaty purr of a motorcycle pulling up alongside the curb a few feet ahead.
It was the kind of entrance that demanded attention. All chrome and confidence.
The rider swung one leg off and pulled off her helmet in a single, practiced motion — revealing a wave of tousled black hair that spilled past her shoulders, ember eyes that seemed to flicker with confidence. With casual flair, she reached into her jacket and tugged on a black cap, pulling it low over her brow. Her outfit was effortless but sharp, like she hadn't dressed to impress — she just was.
She didn't look like she belonged to Sunny's world.
But she looked straight at her.
"Sunny?" the rider called, voice clear, like she'd been rehearsing it.
Sunny blinked. "Uh… yeah?"
The girl grinned, slinging the helmet under her arm like a prop. "Cool. I'm Amber. Your sister."
Amelia choked on her gum. "I'm sorry — what now?"
Sunny just stared. Jaw slack. Brain blank.
"Wait," she finally breathed, "what?"
Amber shrugged. Cool, casual, like she hadn't just split Sunny's reality in half.
Amelia's eyes went wide. Sunny was frozen.The city kept moving, unaware of how sideways everything had just gone.
---
Sunny just stared at her, wide-eyed, the words slow to catch up to her thoughts. I have a sister?
As if reading her mind, the girl tilted her head and smirked. "Half-sister. But still blood related."
Amelia blinked, then stepped forward with zero hesitation. "Okay. No. Sorry — what? Someone's gonna explain this. Like, now."
Amber didn't flinch. She simply grabbed the handlebars of her motorcycle and started walking it along the sidewalk, gesturing for them to follow. "You think I'd just ride into town and hope to stumble into you? Please. I hired a guy. Not creepy — just efficient."
Sunny and Amelia shared a look. Maybe not creepy to her, but… it was definitely unsettling.
Amelia, undeterred, launched into follow-up mode. "Wait—how did you even find out about her? Where are you from? And half-sister… on your dad's or your mom's side?"
Amber let out a soft, almost amused sigh. "Whoa, slow down, speed talker."
She gave Amelia a once-over, eyes flicking from her rings to her earrings to the way she stood a little in front of Sunny, as if ready to intercept trouble.
"You're not one of those girls I had to deal with in school," Amber said finally, more observation than insult. "Too genuine. If you're this fired up, you've known her for a while. Years, right? You care about her."
Amelia blinked, thrown off.
Amber shrugged. "Good. I'm not here to ruin her life."
Then she glanced at Sunny again. "Just here to introduce myself. And maybe... shake things up a little."
---
They found a quiet spot tucked behind a tea shop — a small lot with a rusted bike rack, ivy climbing up the brick walls, and just enough space for Amber to park without drawing attention. The engine clicked as it cooled, and for a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Amber leaned back against her bike, folding her arms. "Okay. Full story?"
Sunny nodded slowly. Amelia crossed her arms too — guarded, but listening.
Amber exhaled, glancing at the sky before starting. "I'm my mom's daughter. Obviously. But the guy who raised me? Her long-time boyfriend? Turns out... not my real dad."
Sunny's brow furrowed.
"I didn't find out until a few months ago," Amber went on. "But honestly? I always knew something was off. He never looked like me, never felt like me. We just didn't click — no matter how hard I tried."
Amelia's expression softened.
"As I got older, it started bugging me. So I started digging. Mom wasn't exactly helpful — dodged every question I asked. Said I was being 'ungrateful.'" Amber rolled her eyes. "Classic."
She toyed with her helmet a little, then continued.
"When I started making money off my music — street gigs, open mics, studio jobs, whatever — I finally had the freedom to start asking questions. Real ones. I hired someone. Not to be creepy — just to figure out who the hell I actually was."
"And…?" Sunny asked, quiet.
Amber looked at her.
"And that's when I found him. Adam Sakamoto. My actual dad." She hesitated. "He was married… to your mom. And they had a daughter. You."
Sunny looked like she wasn't breathing.
"You were 19. Lived in Tokyo. That was all I knew. And... I guess I didn't know what I was gonna do with that info at first. But I figured — if you're anything like me, you probably feel like something's always been missing too."
Sunny swallowed hard, but didn't look away. Something about those words stuck, like they were echoing through a hallway she'd kept locked for years.
Amelia gave Amber a small, thoughtful nod. "So... you came all this way just to meet her?"
Amber gave a crooked smile. "Guess I'm sentimental like that."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward — just full. Full of too many thoughts, too many questions. And maybe, just maybe, the first tiny thread of something new being stitched between them.
Amber let the moment linger for a beat longer, then added, casually, "Of course, once I had your full name, it wasn't hard to find you."
Sunny's brows lifted. "You looked me up?"
Amber snorted. "Sunny Sakamoto? Kind of a unique name. One Google search later and I'm watching this video — Euphony Trio, live at that arts center gig outside the city. You and that guy — Zane? Real chemistry on stage."
She tilted her head slightly, smirking. "Especially that part at the end. Bold move."
Sunny's face flushed.
Amelia blinked. "Wait, the kiss is online?!"
Amber just shrugged. "Let's just say it made the rounds. Some fan cam caught the whole thing. Got looped into a 'Top 10 Stage Kisses' playlist."
Sunny's face warmed, but she stayed quiet.
"I mean…" Amber leaned back against the bench, glancing skyward with an easy shrug. "Didn't expect my maybe-sister to be in a band. Or to be that good."
Amelia smiled a little too proudly. "They're more than good. Sunny's kind of a prodigy."
Amber glanced over at Sunny, studying her with a curious tilt of the head. "You sing like you're afraid of being too much."
That line landed. Not with cruelty — but with precision.
Sunny blinked, lips parting as if to respond — but nothing came out.
"She means it as a compliment," Amelia said quickly, glancing between the two. "I think."
Amber chuckled. "I mean it as an observation. There's something honest about the way you sing. But it feels like... you're always holding back. Like there's a line you're afraid to cross."
She said it like someone who had long since stepped over every line herself.
Sunny gave a small nod, her voice soft. "I know."
Amber's tone softened, just a touch. "Yeah. I figured you might."
Amelia, still intrigued, tilted her head. "So that video wasn't just curiosity, huh? You really know your stuff. What kind of music do you make?"
Amber smirked. "I do more than critique, thanks. I'm… kind of a solo act. I play guitar. Produce my own stuff. Sometimes rap, when I'm in the mood." She added with a wink, "Self-taught. Street performer to streaming platforms."
Amelia's eyes widened. "Wait, like actually on Spotify and everything?"
Amber shrugged, but her smile betrayed some pride. "Yeah. Few tracks up. Nothing crazy. But I've got a decent little following."
Sunny looked at her more closely now. It wasn't just confidence. It was lived-in. Earned.
Amber met her gaze, then added, more softly, "Music was how I kept sane. Gave me something to own. Something no one could lie to me about."
That last line hit.
Sunny didn't mean to — but it pulled something raw to the surface. Her expression shifted, almost imperceptibly. Just a flicker. A small crease in her brow, a hesitation in her breath.
"Could lie to me about…"
The words echoed. Not Amber's voice anymore, but her own thoughts, spiraling.
Her mind drifted — unwillingly, instinctively — to Zane.That phone call. His voice sounding far away, like he was already half-gone. The silence that followed. The bright smiles she gave others that felt more like armor than warmth.
Amber didn't press. But she noticed. Of course she did.
And Amelia, who always seemed to pick up the pieces Sunny dropped, gave her wrist a gentle nudge. "Hey. You okay?"
Sunny blinked, forcing a soft smile. "Yeah… yeah. Just thinking."
Amber tilted her head. Not judging. Just seeing her.
It was a strange feeling — being seen by someone who shouldn't know you at all.
And yet, somehow, did.
---
After a while, Amber glanced at her phone, then pocketed it with a sigh. "Alright — time's up. I've got some arrangements to take care of."
Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Arrangements?"
Amber shrugged, slinging her helmet under one arm. "First thing I did when I got here was track you down," she said, nodding toward Sunny. "But now that I've found my long-lost half-sis, I still need to figure out where I'm crashing tonight."
Amelia blinked. "Wait… you didn't plan anything?"
"Not really," Amber admitted, shameless. "I do sometimes. But this time? Priorities."
She looked off toward the street. "I'll probably just find the cheapest place in town. Something with walls. Not picky."
"You really don't plan ahead, do you?" Amelia muttered, half amused, half horrified.
Amber grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"
Sunny had been quiet — thoughtful — for a while now. But something about the way Amber said cheapest place in town made her stomach twist. Maybe it was the unexpected warmth she'd felt during their conversation. Or maybe it was the way Amber hadn't once asked for anything — except to see her.
She didn't even realize she'd spoken until the words were already out.
"How about… you stay with me?" she said softly. "I have room."
Amelia choked on air. "Wait, what?"
Amber blinked. "Seriously?"
"You don't have to," Sunny added quickly, eyes darting away. "I just— I don't know. You came all this way. I'd feel weird letting you wander off to some sketchy hostel."
Amber looked at her for a long moment. Her usual smirk softened.
"That's… real generous of you. But I didn't mean to intrude," she added with a teasing edge. "Even if I did arrive like a main character."
Sunny almost laughed — almost. "Still. It's okay. I'm offering."
Amber nodded slowly. "Alright, then. If you're sure."
"I am."
Amelia stared at both of them, then crossed her arms. "Well. This is escalating quickly."
Amber tossed her a wink. "Relax. I'm not stealing your bestie."
"You better not," Amelia shot back, only half joking.
And just like that — what began as an emotional reveal was now shifting, just slightly, into something new. Something awkward. Something promising.
Something real.
---
Amelia glanced between them as the conversation began to wind down — the kind of quiet that followed a heavy but honest talk.
She hugged her tote closer. "Well… I should probably get going. Give you two your very dramatic sibling bonding time."
Sunny turned to her, a little surprised. "You sure?"
Amelia smiled, but it was the warm kind — the kind that said I've got your back, always. "Yeah. You've got... a whole new relative to absorb."
Amber tilted her head. "She's a good friend," she said to Sunny, after Amelia stepped back.
"One of the best," Sunny replied softly.
Amelia wiggled her fingers in a lazy wave, then looked at Amber with a teasing squint. "Don't traumatize her."
Amber smirked. "I'll try."
"Cool," Amelia said, already turning. "I'm going to go eat something sweet and pretend this day was normal."
Sunny and Amber watched her disappear down the block, the sun catching the blue tips of her hair as they swayed behind her — unmistakably Amelia.
Then Amber turned, flipping her keys into her palm. "Alright. Want a ride?"
Sunny blinked. "A ride…?"
Amber gestured toward her motorcycle, parked just ahead. "Unless you prefer walking halfway across town."
Sunny stared at the bike. Sleek. Loud. Absolutely not something she'd ever imagined herself riding.
"I've… never been on one before."
Amber raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
Sunny nodded, a little sheepish.
Amber's grin softened — just a little. "Alright, baby steps. I won't go fast. Promise." She offered the helmet. "You trust me?"
Sunny hesitated. Then slowly, she reached out and took it. "I… guess I do."
Amber leaned back slightly, teasing. "Guess?"
"Tell me where you live," she added, tugging on her own black cap. "And I'll get you there in one piece."
Amelia gawked as Sunny reluctantly climbed onto the back of the bike. "You're really doing this?!"
Sunny adjusted the helmet, trying to look braver than she felt. "I said it was okay."
Amber smirked. "She's braver than she looks."
"And you're more reckless than you should be," Amelia muttered.
Amber fired up the engine, the roar echoing down the street. "We'll be fine," she called out. "Don't wait up!"
And with that, the bike rolled off into the quiet afternoon — Sunny gripping tightly around her sister's waist, the city unfolding in front of them.
---
As they climbed the stairwell to her apartment, Sunny felt her pulse begin to quicken.
Oh no. Oh no.
The realization hit all at once — like a cymbal crash in her chest.
She hadn't cleaned.
Not even a little.
She hadn't done dishes. Hadn't picked up the half-dozen sketchbooks strewn across her floor. There was a bra drying on the bathroom doorknob. Her bed wasn't made. There were probably crumbs. Crumbs.
And now Amber — her bold, stylish, effortlessly cool half-sister — was going to see all of it.
Great. Really great, Sunny. All this time wondering what it'd be like to have a sister, and this is what you give her? Ramen air and dust bunnies.
She gave a nervous glance sideways as they reached the second floor. Amber didn't look phased. Helmet still tucked under one arm, she walked like someone who belonged everywhere — confident, steady, completely unbothered by the slightly creaky stairs or dim hallway lights.
Sunny, meanwhile, was mentally preparing to throw her entire living room under a blanket and call it "boho."
She reached the door and fumbled with her keys, praying the lavender room spray from earlier hadn't completely worn off. Maybe it would cancel out the ramen?
Her heart thudded. She hesitated for half a second.
Too late to fake an emergency. Too late to say you forgot your apartment burned down. Just own it.
She pushed the door open.
The apartment greeted them with the faint, lingering mix of lavender and... yep. Ramen.
The sunlight filtered in through slanted blinds, landing across a battlefield of organized chaos. A pile of sketchbooks leaned precariously against the couch. Wires trailed across the floor in snaking patterns. A jacket Sunny hadn't worn in two weeks lay draped over her keyboard stand like it had given up trying to get put away. And sure enough — there it was — her bra, swinging gently from the bathroom door like a flag of defeat.
Sunny wanted to melt straight into the floor.
But Amber?
Amber stepped in slowly, taking everything in with an unreadable expression. She set her helmet down on the entryway bench, gave a low whistle, and said—
"…Yo, this place is kinda dope."
Sunny blinked. "What?"
Amber wandered in, poking at a pinned-up poster on the wall. "I mean, yeah, it's a mess — but it's your mess. It's got flavor." She eyed a drawing of a girl riding a dragon taped beside the fridge. "You drew this?"
"Yeah," Sunny mumbled, cheeks burning.
Amber shrugged off her jacket and slung it over the back of a chair. "Well, I've crashed in worse places. At least this doesn't smell like gym socks and broken dreams."
Sunny stifled a laugh.
She hadn't realized how tightly she'd been holding her breath until that moment.
Amber spun once in place, then flopped onto the couch like she'd been there a hundred times. "Don't worry. I've got zero expectations, sis. I've lived out of a van during tours. This is luxury."
Sunny stood frozen in the entryway for a second longer before finally closing the door behind her. The silence was broken only by the sound of Amber unzipping her boot.
Then—
"You really call this boho?" Amber teased, one brow raised.
Sunny groaned. "You heard that?"
Amber smirked. "You think loud."
They both laughed — and just like that, the sharp edge of Sunny's panic softened. There was still ramen. Still crumbs. But maybe, for the first time, it didn't matter.
This wasn't a performance. It was her real life.
And for the first time in a long while... she wasn't alone in it.
---
Sunny leaned back against the door, letting the moment settle.
Amber had made herself at home quickly, like she always did — couch claimed, boots off, helmet placed neatly beside the door. But now that the panic was ebbing, Sunny's brain kicked into motion again.
Wait.
Amber said the first thing she did after arriving was come looking for her.
That meant…
Sunny glanced over, brows furrowing in sudden thought. "Hey... how long have you been traveling?"
Amber looked up, halfway through poking through a stack of zines on the coffee table. "Hm?"
"You came all the way here. On your motorcycle?"
Amber tilted her head thoughtfully. "Pretty much. Took a couple stops. Slept like a rock at some weird mountain hostel two nights ago. Met a guy who sold jam out of his trunk. Good jam, actually."
Sunny blinked. "You're not tired?"
Amber shrugged one shoulder. "Adrenaline. And bad coffee."
But Sunny wasn't convinced. Her eyes narrowed a little. "And... food?"
Amber opened her mouth, paused, then—
Grrrrrrrrrgle.
Her stomach answered for her.
There was a beat of silence.
Amber looked down and muttered, "Betrayed by my own gut."
Sunny smiled, arms folding gently. "You should've said something."
Amber leaned her head back dramatically. "I didn't even realize I was hungry until you said it."
"Well," Sunny said, grabbing her tote bag off a chair, "good thing I did."
Amber raised a brow. "You got food here?"
"No," Sunny said simply, "but I know a place. Come on."
Amber glanced around the room, then back at her. "You kicking me out already?"
"I'm saving your life," Sunny said, mock serious. "You're running on jam and gasoline."
Amber snorted. "Fair."
"And I'm paying," Sunny added quickly, before Amber could argue. "No use fighting it."
That got a pause. Amber tilted her head, something soft flickering in her expression.
"…Alright," she said, slowly rising from the couch. "Just so you know, I'm not cheap."
Sunny opened the door with a small, shy smile. "That's fine."
But what she didn't say — what echoed under the words — was:
I just want more time with you.
---
They found a cozy little restaurant tucked on a quieter side street — the kind with wooden booths, soft jazz humming overhead, and a menu that had both comfort food and a few fancier touches if you knew where to look.
Amber scanned the menu, eyes flicking over the options like she was trying to calculate calories, cost, and coolness all at once. Eventually, she pointed to the grilled miso salmon bowl with pickled vegetables and rice. "This looks good," she said lightly.
Sunny raised a brow. "Just that?"
Amber shrugged. "You're paying. I'm not about to take advantage."
Sunny's lips quirked. "You haven't eaten in how long?"
Amber gave a vague wave. "Couple days since a real meal. Nothing a miso bowl can't fix."
Sunny set her menu down. "Order something else. Something more filling. You can still be cool and eat meat, you know."
Amber hesitated.
Sunny looked her right in the eye and said, "Seriously. I want to."
Amber blinked once. Then smiled a little — not the crooked, guarded kind, but something a bit more real. "Alright… in that case…"
She called the waiter over again and added on a side of karaage — golden, crispy fried chicken — and a small beef tataki plate.
Sunny's eyes lit up the moment she heard karaage.
"No way," she said, leaning in with a grin. "You like fried chicken too?"
Amber raised a brow, amused. "Who doesn't?"
"Okay but like, I really like it," Sunny said, her voice lowering like she was revealing a scandalous secret. "Like, could-live-off-it kind of like."
Amber snorted. "You're telling me I was the dramatic one this whole time?"
They both laughed — real, easy laughter — and something in Sunny's chest relaxed.
When it was her turn to order, she went with her usual comfort pick: tonkotsu ramen with soft-boiled egg, extra bamboo shoots, and a side of chicken karaage for herself. The waiter raised an eyebrow at the duplicate order.
Sunny just grinned. "What? I said I liked it."
Amber smirked, clearly pleased. "You're alright, chicken girl."
Sunny rolled her eyes, smiling through it. "Please never call me that again."
"Too late. It's canon."
---
They were still chuckling when the drinks arrived, and by the time the food hit the table, that once-fragile thread between them had already started to weave into something warmer. Realer.
And neither of them mentioned it — but they both noticed they had ordered the same thing.
"So," Sunny said, resting her chin on her palm. "Have you always been this whole… rebel thing? Leather jacket, bold entrance, motorcycle-riding entrance like a music video?"
Amber smirked, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. "Nah."
"No?"
"I mean, yeah, now I am," she said, waving a chopstick vaguely. "But I wasn't always."
Sunny tilted her head, curious.
"I used to be…" Amber paused, frowning slightly as she searched for the word. "Softer. Quiet. Shy, even. Clung to my mom a lot. I wanted to draw, actually."
Sunny blinked. "Draw?"
Amber nodded. "I was into comics. I made my own zines at, like, nine. Doodled in the margins of every math test I ever failed."
"…What changed?"
Amber stirred her rice around a bit. "Life. Stepdad didn't really get it. He was loud, strict. The kind of guy who thinks emotion is weakness. I think after a while, I started trying to out-tough him. It was easier than getting hurt."
Sunny didn't respond right away. She just looked down at her ramen and murmured, "Yeah. I get that."
Amber glanced up, surprised by the weight behind those quiet words. She didn't push — didn't ask what Sunny meant. But there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes.
After a beat, Sunny perked up slightly. "Wait, you made zines?"
Amber grinned. "Still got a few back home. One about a magical cat mafia, and another where a girl saves the world by screaming into a mic."
Sunny laughed, a full and warm sound. "That sounds amazing."
"You're mocking me."
"No, I swear!" she beamed. "I would've read that in middle school."
Amber chuckled under her breath. "Maybe I'll dig them out someday."
"Promise?"
A pause. Then Amber nodded once. "Yeah. Promise."
The rest of the meal passed with soft laughter and slower stories — tiny puzzle pieces of childhoods that never overlapped but suddenly felt like they could have. Sunny talked about doodling in class and getting scolded for it. Amber mentioned climbing out her window at night just to feel like she had control over something.
By the end, their bowls were nearly empty, the plates down to crumbs, and something in the air had shifted. Not dramatically. Just a little. Like a door left slightly open, where once it was locked tight.
---
They returned to the apartment stuffed and relaxed, stomachs full, conversation trailing off into the warm quiet of night.
Sunny kicked off her shoes and immediately winced.
Oh. Right.
She hadn't cleaned.
The floor still had crumpled hoodie sleeves peeking out from under the coffee table. Her laptop was half-open on the couch, tangled in charger cords and snack wrappers. The faint scent of lavender room spray had long faded — replaced once again by the undeniable whisper of leftover ramen and candle wax.
Amber stepped in behind her and took it all in with a casual sweep of her gaze.
"...Lived-in," she said diplomatically, dropping her helmet near the door. "Kinda charming."
Sunny flushed. "I—swear, it doesn't always look like this!"
Amber shrugged. "Doesn't bother me."
Sunny wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.
She rushed over to the couch and started clearing space, kicking a rolled-up sock under the side table and flipping the laptop shut like that would somehow erase the mess. "Uh… I was thinking you could sleep here. It pulls out. Couch-bed. It's got… springs. And personality."
Amber smirked and flopped down on it anyway, arms spread. "Honestly? I've slept on worse."
"I've got clean sheets," Sunny added quickly. "Somewhere."
As she scrambled for the linen closet, Amber watched her quietly — until, finally, she spoke again.
"This Zane guy," she said lightly, "he's lucky."
Sunny paused mid-blanket tug. "Huh?"
Amber tilted her head. "I mean, look at you. Flustered, scrambling, trying to make someone feel at home. Total housewife energy."
Sunny stared at her in disbelief. "There is literally a sock in that plant."
Amber grinned. "I didn't say you were neat. Just… you care. That's rarer than you think."
Sunny flushed. The mention of Zane again hit something she wasn't ready for. She shoved the blanket at Amber.
"Perfect housewife," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, right."
Amber caught the blanket and flopped backward onto the couch with a grin. "Don't worry. I won't tell him."
Sunny groaned and turned to hide her face in the linen closet.
---
Later, after a few half-hearted attempts at cleaning and a successful mission to find some old pajama sets (one of which Amber claimed with a raised eyebrow and an, "Are these ducks?"), they both finally began winding down.
Sunny passed Amber a fluffy pair of socks and pointed toward the bathroom. "You can use anything in the cabinet," she said. "Towels are behind the door. Toothbrushes — I have extras — are still in the plastic."
Amber nodded, already tugging her curls into a messy bun. "You're a good host."
Sunny gave a weak smile. "I try."
She lingered a moment longer, shifting her weight in the doorway. "Alright, I'll… let you rest then. Goodnight."
Amber glanced up from unrolling her borrowed socks. "Night."
Sunny turned to retreat toward her own room — but before she could disappear behind the door, Amber's voice stopped her.
"Hey, Sunny."
She turned halfway back. "Yeah?"
Amber was sitting now, elbows on her knees, fingers absently twisting one of her rings. Her expression was unreadable — thoughtful, maybe. Gentle.
"I know I've only known you for like... ten minutes," she started, "but... every time I mentioned Zane tonight, you got quiet. Not just shy — like, really quiet. Like something kinda hurt."
Sunny stiffened just slightly. Her gaze flicked away, to the floor.
Amber raised a hand before she could retreat again. "I'm not trying to pry. You don't have to say anything. I just... figured, since I'm here for a while, you should know I don't mind listening. If you ever wanna talk. Or vent. Or scream into a pillow and throw things — y'know, standard coping stuff."
Sunny swallowed.
It wasn't much. Just a simple offer. But the way Amber said it — no judgment, no pressure — it landed heavier than it should have.
"I…" Sunny started. But the words tangled. She glanced down at her hands, then up at her sister.
"Thanks."
Amber gave her a soft, almost sleepy smile. "Anytime."
And for the first time that day — in the quiet hush of her dim apartment, with someone who shared her blood sleeping on the couch — Sunny felt just a little less alone.
She nodded, murmured another quiet "goodnight," and gently closed the door behind her.
---
It had been an eventful day.
Too much, maybe.
Sunny curled beneath her sheets, the room dark save for the faint city glow pressing through her curtains. Her pillow smelled faintly of lavender and laundry softener — comforting, grounding. But her mind… her mind wouldn't settle.
First, there was Nico.
She hadn't thought about him like that in—well, ever. He had always just been there. Amelia's older brother. The quiet kid who walked her home in third grade when her shoe broke. The one who taught her how to ride a bike and didn't laugh when she crashed into a bush. She smiled faintly at the memory.
But now he was… back. Older. Smarter. Kind. And maybe — just maybe — flirting?
Sunny groaned into her pillow. Was Amelia right? Was he actually playing the long game?
They'd basically grown up together, but always on the edges of different circles. He was two years older — had his own peers, his own life. Then one day, poof, he was abroad. Studying, working, thriving. And she'd stayed. She'd kept doing her thing. Drawing. Dreaming. Falling in love.
Zane.
Her smile wilted.
She stared at the ceiling.
She still loved him… didn't she?
Even after two weeks of silence — two weeks of wondering, second-guessing, rereading his last text for meaning it probably didn't hold. Her heart hadn't moved on. It didn't want to move on. What they had felt like lightning — fast, warm, overwhelming. The kind of thing songs get written about.
But now?
She heard Amelia's voice in her mind like a whisper: "Do you want to wait for him?"
Sunny curled tighter under her blanket. Of course I do, she thought. Right?
Right?
Her chest ached.
And then — Amber.
Her half-sister. A stranger and yet… not. She was real. She had a face, a voice, a crooked smile. She was sleeping in the next room, on her couch. And it all felt so—
Surreal.
Sunny reached out toward the other side of her bed, her palm brushing the empty space beside her.
For a second — just a second — she imagined it filled. A warm chest. Familiar arms. Zane's quiet breathing beside her.
Maybe this was all just a dream. Maybe if she fell asleep now, she'd wake up nestled against him again — wrapped up, safe, the world outside still far away.
But she knew better.
So instead, she closed her eyes. Let the weight of the day settle into her limbs. Let the noise slow. Let her heart rest.
And as sleep finally crept in, one soft thought lingered:
What happens next?