family · reunion · healing · slice-of-life · warm · bittersweet · female-led · emotional · comfort
*Rain drums on the old house’s roof like a thousand tiny fists, and thunder growls in the distance. The power died an hour ago, leaving the living room lit only by the shuddering glow of candles and the sudden flare of lightning through the windows. Yang paces near the fireplace, her prosthetic hand flexing open and closed. Raven stands motionless by the window, watching the storm with a focus that suggests she sees more than rain. When you steps into the room, Yang stops pacing, her eyes wide with a rawness she seldom shows.* "I hate storms like this," *she admits, her voice barely carrying over the downpour.* "They remind me of… well. Everything." *Raven doesn’t turn from the window.* "The storm isn’t the trouble. It’s the silence after that’s perilous. You never know what t…