[Maddie’s POV]

Mother: Surprise! Dad and I are in town. Lunch in an hour at campus? Can’t wait to see your room!

The words swim before my eyes while my pulse performs acrobatics.

They want to see my room. My supposedly private, parent-funded single room that currently contains Emily’s existence scattered across every surface like evidence at a crime scene.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter, already moving with the frantic energy of someone dismantling their own crime scene.

Emily’s marketing textbook goes under my bed like contraband. Her pillow gets shoved in my closet with the desperation of someone hiding bodies.

“What are you doing?” Emily asks from her desk, watching me tornado through our shared space with increasing concern. “You look like you’re preparing for a police raid.”

“Parents. In town. Wanting to see my private single that definitely exists,” I explain while cramming her water bottle behind my dresser. “Need everything that suggests roommate cohabitation to temporarily cease existing.”

“Oh.” Understanding dawns across her face. “Want me to help hide my own existence? I’m very good at not being places. Years of practice avoiding my mother’s setups with nice boys who have good jobs and no personality.”

“Just… your stuff, make it invisible. Completely. Like you never existed here.” I grab her hairbrush from the desk, then her phone charger. “I’ll text them about meeting at the cafe instead.”

My fingers fly across my phone screen.

Me: Running late from practice, easier to meet there, so sorry about the room tour maybe next time when it’s not a disaster.

“Maddie,” Emily says softly, and something in her tone makes me pause mid-panic. “It’s going to be okay. Whatever happens at lunch, you’ll survive it. You always do.”

I don’t have time to process the kindness, so I flee instead. Always my most refined response to emotional availability.

The cafe my parents choose radiates the kind of middle-class comfort that makes my Maddie Reyes persona sweat through her stolen confidence. They’re already seated when I arrive, and seeing them makes something in my chest crack like expensive china.

“Sweetheart!” Mom rises for a hug that smells like home and sacrifice. “You look beautiful. Maybe a little thin? Are you eating enough? The meal plan is sufficient?”

“She looks perfect, like always,” Dad says, but his smile carries exhaustion in its corners. “Our champion daughter. Making us proud every day with that captain position.”

The position that pays for absolutely nothing, I think but don’t say.

Instead, I perform gratitude with the polish of someone who’s practiced this scene.

“Thank you both for coming. It means everything having your support.”

We order, and Mom describes their drive with enthusiasm that masks how old their car has gotten. Dad mentions taking extra shifts with pride that sounds like exhaustion.

Every word is another weight on my chest.

“Did you see that news story about the Supreme Court thing? We heard it on the way here. Barely could drive straight!” Dad’s tone shifts, casual darkness threading through. “Gay marriage nonsense. What’s next, people marrying their pets? The world’s lost its mind.”

My stomach transforms into a block of ice.

Mom’s hand flutters to her napkin. “David, let’s not discuss politics at lunch. We’re here to see Madison.”

“I’m just saying, it’s unnatural,” he continues, stabbing his salad with unnecessary force. “Thank God we raised you right. At least we don’t have to worry about that nonsense with you.”

“They love who they think I am.” The words escape before I can stop them. “They love the daughter they paid for. The straight one with the boyfriend and the bright future that justifies everything.”

Emily doesn’t respond immediately. Just sits there, present without pushing.

“Did something specific happen, or was it the general weight of being their perfect creation?”

“My dad thinks gay people are destroying society,” I laugh, but it sounds like breaking. “Made sure I knew exactly how disgusted he is by their existence. While his daughter who hasn’t said a single honest thing in years sat there agreeing with him.”

“Madison…” Emily breathes, and now she does reach out, slowly enough that I could pull away.

But I just collapse into her arms like a building finally admitting its foundation is compromised. She holds me while I shake apart, whispering nothing important into my hair.

Her arms create a boundary between me and the world that expects perfection I can’t deliver.

“They gave up everything…” I whisper against her shoulder. “Vacations, savings, their own dreams. All for my skating. How can I tell them their investment bought them a… not-so-straight daughter who’s been lying about everything?”

“You don’t have to tell them anything until you’re ready,” Emily says, pulling me closer. “Or ever, if that’s what you need. There’s no timeline for truth.”

We end up in my bed, fully clothed, her arms around me like scaffolding keeping me upright. There’s no heat, no urgency, just the comfort of being held by someone who sees my disaster and stays anyway.

“I wish I could be braver,” I whisper into the darkness, thinking she’s asleep.

But I feel her arms tighten slightly, and I know she heard every word.