𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘, 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝖻𝗎𝗆

welcome home you brave idiots

Matt slung a heavy crate off his shoulder, grinning.

"Finally. Solid ground. Fresh air. I missed this place."

"Same," Thomas said, wiping sweat off his neck. "That sea creature gave me a sunburn."

"Let's just hope the others missed us," Minho muttered, half-joking as he and Gally hauled in the rest of the cargo.

Luke was already walking ahead, tossing the last crate onto a dolly. "I bet the girls are throwing us a welcome-back lunch."

"Right," Hugo smirked. "With a banner that says 'Our heroes return!'"

Matt couldn't help it — his heart sped up. Vicky. Home. Their bed. Her hand over his, feeling the baby kick again. He'd dreamed about this for days.

"I'm gonna kiss my wife," he said with a proud grin, swinging the doors to the common room open.

The smile died on his face.

So did everyone else's.

Inside, Teresa was hiding behind a pile of books. Sonya had her head in her hands, muttering something about "crackers being political." Nancy looked like she'd seen war. Thèrèse was holding a mug of lukewarm tea and Bea was lying flat on the floor with a dish towel over her face.

Only Harriet acknowledged their entrance by dramatically pointing to the far corner of the room and whispering, "She's in there."

Matt took one step forward, then paused.

"Why does it smell like... peach cobbler?"

Teresa poked her head up, voice small and haunted.

"Because she baked one while crying. She said it smells like your shampoo."

Gally made a face. "Does it?"

Teresa nodded slowly. "It does."

Suddenly, from the shadows of the adjacent room,

"Matthew James Greene."

Matt turned. "Vic—"

She emerged like a goddess of wrath and cocoa butter, oversized shirt stretched over her belly, eyes puffy, hair a glorious disaster, and holding a spatula like a scepter.

"You left me. For seventeen days. Seventeen."

He blinked. "You counted?"

"Of course I counted!" she shouted. "You left me with Brenda, who made me chamomile tea that smelled like sadness. And Harriet, who reads bedtime stories like a documentary narrator."

Harriet blinked. "That's just my voice—"

"And Bea's papayas weren't even cold, Matt."

Matt dropped the crate and held out his arms. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. We were getting solar panels and antibiotics! You literally told me to—"

"I DIDN'T MEAN IT!"

Matt panicked. "Okay. Okay. What do you want me to do?"

Vicky's voice cracked. "Come here and hug me, you idiot."

Matt bolted forward like a soldier obeying a general, wrapping his arms gently around her swollen belly. She melted into him, hiccupping.

"I thought the baby would come early and you'd miss it," she whispered into his chest. "I don't want them to think their dad is a sea ghost."

He choked a little on a laugh, resting his chin on her curls. "I'm here, alright? I'm here now. No more crates. Just you."

Bea peeled the towel off her face and muttered, "If she bakes another cobbler I'm moving to the woods."

Minho, already halfway to the door again, turned to Gally and said, "You go ahead. I'll guard the boat."

The boys began quietly backing away, one by one, except Matt, who was still in the center of it all, swaying slowly with his wife in his arms, whispering apologies while she muttered about how dare he not write a poem about her in the sea.

Thomas whispered to Sonya, "She's scary."

Sonya nodded. "And she's his problem now."