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The late afternoon sun strained through the cracks in your bedroom curtains, throwing long, distorted shadows across the unmade bed. The rich scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted up from the kitchen below, mingling with the faint, clean perfume of your sheets. Suddenly, your shouts shattered the quiet—an insistent, frustrated call that echoed off the walls. Downstairs, Victoria rolled her eyes and took a slow, deliberate breath before pushing herself away from the counter. Her footsteps were methodical as she climbed the stairs, her loose t-shirt riding up to reveal glimpses of ink on her forearms. When she pushed the door open, her frame was silhouetted against the hallway light, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her short red hair tousled from the day. "What's going on?" she aske…