Riley stood just outside the kitchen doorway, one hand braced against the frame like the whole house might collapse if he breathed too hard.
The hallway was exactly as he remembered at sixteen—family photos, scuffed paint, the little dent in the drywall from when Aria tried to skateboard indoors and blamed "gravity."
But it wasn't the sight that hit him the hardest.
It was the smell.
Warm toast.
Sweet vanilla candle.
Laundry soap.
And the faint trace of his mother's perfume drifting through the air.
The smell of a home he'd lost without ever noticing when.
He stepped into the kitchen.
Morning sunlight spilled across the old wooden table, making the dust motes look like tiny drifting stars. The kettle hissed softly on the stove. And his mother stood at the counter—ten years younger—humming off-key as she flipped eggs in a pan.
Riley's breath stuttered.
He hadn't seen her like this in years.
Not tired.
Not worn down.
Not worried.
Just… Mom.
"Morning," he whispered.
Mom turned, blinking in surprise. "You're up early. Before breakfast is even ready." She tilted her head. "Everything okay?"
Riley swallowed hard. "Yeah. I just… wanted to see everyone."
She paused, spatula hovering. Then she smiled—warm, familiar, heartbreakingly young.
"Well, that's a nice change."
Before Riley could answer—
SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.
Aria stormed into the kitchen like a human firework, brandishing an empty cereal box over her head.
"MOOOOM! Sofia stole my cereal again!"
Sofia wandered in behind her, quiet as a breeze, holding her bowl delicately. "It was one bowl."
"It was my bowl, Sofia!"
"It's cereal, Aria. I didn't harvest your organs."
"It felt like you did!"
Riley laughed—quiet, broken, disbelieving.
They were so young.
Aria at fifteen looked like pure chaos incarnate. Sofia, fifteen going on sixty, calm and soft-spoken.
He once found mornings like this irritating.
Now they were priceless.
Aria froze mid-rant when she saw him.
"…Oh. My. God."
She squinted at him like he was diseased. "What's up with you, Riley?"
Sofia leaned around her, blinking softly. "He looks emotional."
"I am NOT emotional," Riley said too quickly, wiping his eyes.
Aria pointed at him dramatically. "MOM. RILEY'S CRYING."
"I'm not—"
Mom sighed. "Girls, leave your brother alone."
Aria leaned in, eyes shining with mischief. "He totally cried."
Sofia nodded. "His eyes are red."
"I had allergies," Riley muttered.
Aria smirked. "Yeah. You're allergic to feelings. Makes sense."
Mom set plates on the table. "All right, sit down. Breakfast is ready."
Riley moved slowly, afraid the moment would vanish if he shifted too fast.
He brushed his fingers along the table—finding the familiar groove he'd carved into it with a fork a decade ago. His chest tightened.
Sofia sat beside him. "You're really quiet today."
Aria dropped into her seat with flair. "He's not quiet. He's weird."
Riley let out a slow breath. "I just… missed all this."
Aria froze mid-bite.
Sofia looked up gently.
Even Mom paused with her fork.
The words hung raw in the air—too honest.
Sofia's voice was soft. "We're right here."
"I know," Riley whispered. "And I don't want to take that for granted."
For a split second Aria's expression softened—tender, almost protective.
And then—
"Is he dying?"
Sofia gasped. "Don't say that!"
Mom rolled her eyes. "He's fine. Eat your breakfast."
Aria leaned over the table, narrowing her eyes like an interrogator. "If you're dying, you legally have to tell us. It's a rule."
"That is absolutely not a rule," Sofia whispered.
"Pretty sure it is," Aria insisted.
Riley snorted. "I'm not dying."
He wasn't.
He was living again.
For the first time in years.
---
The Memory Hit Hard and Fast
The loss of his sisters hadn't been sudden.
It was slow. Creeping. Easy to ignore until it was too late.
Aria's invitations stopped first.
"Can you come to my performance?"
"Busy."
"Help me practice my presentation?"
"Can't. Raid tonight."
"Want to play a board game?"
"Working on a build."
Eventually she stopped asking.
Then Sofia.
Sweet, anxious Sofia.
She once knocked late at night.
"Riley? Can I talk? I don't feel good…"
He was mid-match.
"Not now, Sof. I'm busy."
She never knocked again.
He lost his sisters without them ever leaving the house.
---
Back in the present, Sofia rested her chin on her hand. "You're thinking so hard your brain is vibrating."
Aria nodded. "Most serious I've seen him since that math exam he failed."
"It was one exam," Riley groaned.
"And you cried."
"That's not—never mind."
Aria smirked triumphantly.
Mom finally sat down. "Okay. What's going on? What's on your mind?"
Riley exhaled. "Realmwalker launches today."
Aria dropped her forehead onto the table with a groan. "MOM, MAKE HIM STOP. He's gonna talk about patch notes."
"I am not—"
"You're already doing it," Sofia whispered.
Riley glared. "Just listen, please?"
Aria sighed dramatically. "Fine. You have thirty seconds before I die of boredom."
Riley inhaled.
"I want us to play it," he said.
"Together."
The girls stared like he'd just announced he was joining the priesthood.
"…Wait." Aria lifted a finger. "You want us to play a video game?"
"Yes."
"With you?"
"Yes."
"Voluntarily?"
"Yes!"
Sofia blinked. "You've never asked us before."
"I know," Riley said softly. "And I regret that."
Aria squinted at him like he was a criminal. "Okay, who are you, and what have you done with my brother?"
Riley smiled faintly. "Think of it as me trying to be a better brother."
Aria's sarcasm flickered into genuine surprise. "Oh."
Sofia gave a small, hopeful smile. "I'd like to play with you."
Aria shrugged. "Fine. Whatever. But only if it benefits me."
"It will," Riley said confidently.
Aria's eyes lit up. "How much are we talking? Money? Fame? Free snacks?"
"Potentially… a lot."
Aria slammed her fist on the table. "SOFIA! PACK YOUR TOOTHBRUSH! WE'RE GOING TO BE MILLIONAIRES."
"We are not packing toothbrushes," Sofia whispered, giggling.
Mom gave Riley a wary smile. "Just don't drag them into anything dangerous."
"It's an online game, Mom," Riley said. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Aria raised a hand. "I saw a guy scream so loud he fainted once. That could happen."
"Then don't scream," Riley said.
"No promises."
Sofia gently tugged his sleeve. "If we're playing… you'll help us, right?"
Riley looked at her—bright, young, alive—and something fierce and protective lit inside him.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll be there every step of the way."
Aria studied him quietly. "...I think I like this version of you."
Mom smiled softly. "Me too."
Riley looked around the table:
Aria's chaotic grin.
Sofia's soft eyes.
His mom's warm, careful pride.
He'd lost all of this once.
Not this time.
He had his family back.
And he wasn't letting go.