Friday nights belonged to the living room.
That's what Mr. Callahan called it.
"No excuses," he'd announced the first week after the adoption. "We are a family that watches bad movies together."
Mrs. Callahan pretended to protest every time.
"They're not bad, they're classics."
"They are objectively terrible," he'd argue, already reaching for the remote.
The ritual never changed.
Popcorn in the blue bowl with the chipped rim. Blankets dragged from bedrooms. Lights dimmed, but never completely off.
Predictable.
Steady.
Safe.
Nora sat on the far end of the couch the first few Fridays.
Close enough to participate. Far enough to leave if she needed to.
Eli always dropped down beside her last.
Not crowding.
Just… present.
The movie that night was some old action film Mr. Callahan insisted was "cinematic gold."
It wasn't.
Even Nora knew that.
Halfway through, Mrs. Callahan started pointing out plot holes.
Mr. Callahan defended every ridiculous explosion like it was personal.
Eli muttered commentary under his breath.
And before Nora realized what was happening—
she laughed.
Not politely.
Not quietly.
It slipped out of her before she could stop it.
A real laugh.
The kind that bubbles up from somewhere unguarded.
The room went still for half a second.
Not awkward.
Just surprised.
Mrs. Callahan smiled softly.
Mr. Callahan grinned like he'd won something.
Eli didn't look at her.
But his shoulders relaxed.
And the movie continued.
No one made a big deal out of it.
Which made it mean more.
Later, the power went out.
The entire house dropped into darkness mid-scene.
The television cut to black.
Outside, wind rattled the trees.
"Transformer blew," Mr. Callahan muttered.
Mrs. Callahan stood. "I'll get candles."
The sudden dark pressed in around Nora.
Her breath hitched before she could control it.
Darkness meant unpredictability.
Silence meant waiting.
Waiting meant—
Her chest tightened.
Too fast.
Too familiar.
She couldn't see the walls.
Couldn't see the door.
Couldn't see—
A hand brushed lightly against her sleeve.
Not grabbing.
Not startling.
Just contact.
"It's just the power," Eli's voice said quietly beside her.
Matter-of-fact.
Grounded.
"They'll fix it."
She swallowed, forcing air into her lungs.
"I know."
But she didn't move her arm away.
Mrs. Callahan returned with candles, placing them carefully around the room.
Soft gold light replaced the sharp glare of electricity.
The house looked different in candlelight.
Smaller.
Warmer.
Safer.
Mr. Callahan sat back down.
"Well," he said. "Guess we're telling embarrassing stories now."
Mrs. Callahan groaned. "Absolutely not."
"Oh, absolutely yes."
Eli shifted slightly closer — not enough to draw attention, just enough that their shoulders almost touched.
Nora let them.
They ended up sitting on the floor.
Mr. Callahan told a story about getting lost on a camping trip in college.
Mrs. Callahan revealed Eli once cried because a goldfish died.
"I was six," Eli protested.
"Still counts," she replied.
Nora listened.
Watched.
Memorized.
This was what families did.
They teased.
They stayed.
They filled silence with something softer than fear.
At some point, Eli nudged her lightly with his elbow.
"Your turn," he said.
She froze.
"I don't have one."
"Sure you do."
She hesitated.
Then, quietly, she said, "My dad once tried to fix the sink and flooded the entire kitchen."
Mrs. Callahan laughed gently.
Mr. Callahan winced in sympathy.
Eli smiled.
"What happened?"
"We ordered pizza and pretended it wasn't a disaster."
She didn't realize until she finished speaking that her voice wasn't shaking.
No one looked uncomfortable.
No one changed the subject.
Her father's memory didn't shatter the room.
It just… sat there.
Allowed.
When the power flickered back on an hour later, no one rushed to turn the television on again.
The candles kept burning.
The conversation kept flowing.
And Nora realized something quietly, almost reluctantly:
Nothing bad had happened in the dark.
No phone had rung. No knock at the door. No sirens.
The house had stayed standing.
The people in it had stayed too.
When they finally headed upstairs, Eli paused outside her door.
"You good?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Yeah."
And this time—
it wasn't a lie.