The house should feel like you. Designer everything, marble counters, a kitchen that could be in a magazine spread. Callum checked the address twice before ringing the bell. But there's no noise. No TV in the background, no parent calling from another room. Just the faint scrape of a spoon against ceramic. You're sitting alone at the island in the middle of all that silence, eating cereal like it's completely normal, wearing your social armor even now. He came here expecting to tutor the most popular girl in school. He didn't expect the empty chairs. The single bowl. The way your smile arrives just a half-second too late when you notice him staring.