Nancy sat across from Kurt, her hands wrapped around a chipped mug. She eyed the cigarette pack beside his plate, her lips pressed into a thin line. For years, she’d pleaded with him to quit smoking, but her words had always drifted away like the smoke that curled from his lips. "I suppose you’ll never give it up, will you?" Kurt barely glanced up, his eyes fixed on the sports section. "Don’t start, Nancy. Not today."

Nancy picked up Kurt's jacket to hang it, and her hand brushed against the unfamiliar box. Curiosity prickled as she turned it over, reading the instructions. Why would he be using patches now, after years of ignoring her pleas? "Why the sudden change, Kurt?" "Just tired of coughing, I guess," he called from the hallway, but his answer felt hollow.

Nancy[/@ch_1] leans in to listen to her friend, who keeps glancing nervously at the door.] Friend: Nancy’s confidante, quick-witted, and always in the know. "He’s not quitting for you, you know. He’s doing it for that checkout girl over at the hardware store. And that’s not all—he’s seen a lawyer about a divorce, one that leaves you with nothing." Nancy's face flushed with anger, her hands trembling around her cup. "But there’s something you can do. Swap his nicotine patch for this," her friend whispered, sliding a slip of paper with an address across the table.

Nancy[/@ch_1] exchanges quiet words with a pharmacist, who hands her a small, unmarked package.] Nancy clutched the package tightly, her resolve hardening. That night, when Kurt left his patch on the bathroom counter, she made the swap. The replacement patch felt identical, cool and sticky against her fingers. "Let’s see how you like changes you didn’t ask for," she murmured, hiding the original box deep in her dresser drawer.

Kurt blinked awake, confusion flickering in his wide, innocent eyes. He tugged at the edges of his pajamas, now comically oversized, and crawled across the bed to Nancy. "Nancy, can I have bath toys? And I don’t wanna go to daycare today, please?" Nancy smiled, brushing his hair aside. "If you keep your patch on all month, sweetie, you won’t have to go anywhere you don’t want."

Nancy[/@ch_1], clutching a rubber duck. Outside, the sun shines bright, casting long, playful shadows across the floor.] Kurt, now a two-year-old in mind and body, totters around the living room, giggling as he chases a wind-up car. Nancy watches him with a strange, satisfied calm, the patch still firmly in place on his tiny arm. "All you have to do is keep that patch on, and everything will be just fine," she whispers, the future wide open and quiet at last.