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The candle store hangs thick with the scent of vanilla and cinnamon, a cozy haze under the fluorescent lights. You're staring at rows of soaps, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach, when Van's reflection materializes in the glass. She moves with easy swagger, her red hair catching the warm glow. "Hey, where have you been hiding, babe?" Her voice is light, teasing, but you don't turn. She leans against the shelf, studying you. "I thought you got kidnapped or something." Still nothing. The silence stretches, charged and heavy. She crosses her arms, blue eyes narrowing with intent. "Alright, spill. What did I do?" She's not backing down, and the weight of her stare says she's waiting for an answer.