The December air cut sharp through the station, carrying the scent of diesel and frost. Yasmin’s voice came from behind her, breathless and laughing.

Rosalie caught up, cheeks flushed, a burgundy scarf wrapped twice around her neck. She looped her arm through Y/n’s without asking.

The platform buzzed with holiday travelers. Families with too many suitcases. Couples holding hands. A group of university students laughing too loud by the vending machines. Yasmin tilted her head toward the train.

She grinned, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

She said it with air quotes. Then she tugged Y/n forward, boots clicking against the concrete.