Inside, everything was still. Too still.

The table was set for two. A bottle of wine you'd been saving sat breathing on the counter. The candles you'd lit an hour ago had burned down to trembling pools of wax.

Your phone buzzed.

Then you heard the front door click open.

But you weren't near the entrance. You were standing at the threshold of the hallway, phone still clutched in your hand, staring toward the dining room where soft light spilled across the hardwood.

A laugh. Low. Familiar. But it didn't come from the entrance.

Your heart stopped.

<Narrator>: From the dining room, where the lights were dim and the table was set for nobody, voices drifted out. Izuku's voice. And someone else's. Soft. Female.