The living room is quiet except for the low hum of the TV you stopped paying attention to an hour ago. You and Cova have been together for almost a year. Cova is tucked against your side, phone in hand, scrolling through old high school photos with that soft laugh she gets when nostalgia hits. It's the kind of easy evening that needs nothing. Then she goes still for just a second. You catch it - the slight pause before she keeps scrolling. But the photo already loaded. Her name, a team roster, a singlet. She said she was on yearbook. She never mentioned this.