When the old college group chat revived with a message from Katara that read, Aang and I are getting a divorce, Zuko didn't consider that it might not be a joke. Once upon a time, they had been his best friends, but they had also been completely disgusting as a couple. They were the kind of saccharine that upset his stomach when they all hung out. It had always made him feel like a terribly selfish person that he couldn't manage to feel happy for them. The only real consolation had been that Katara had seemed equally perturbed when he started bringing Mai around to group functions. If she was overprotective and he was uptight and Aang was sweetly unaware of these flaws, then it was okay. That was just them.

Did he start snoring? Is this a new group meme? he texted back, then tucked the phone back in his pocket and went back to slicing up an apple for Izumi's snack. He scooped the finished pile onto a plate and dropped a glob of peanut butter into the corner, licking the extra off the spoon. "Here you go, kid," he said, sliding the plate next to her elbow where she was hunched over the coffee table with paper and crayons. Silence, as she kept scribbling away at what looked like a purple platypusbear. "You're welcome," he said pointedly, poking the top of her head to get her attention. Her head snapped up in surprise, big brown eyes blinking at him from behind her glasses. He nodded at the snack beside her. She looked, and then grinned at him in gleeful surprise, as though he'd conjured them from thin air.

"Thanks!"

"You're welcome," he said wryly, and returned to the kitchen.

At seven, Izumi was a bit of a space case, tending to get tunnel visioned on one particular project and pursuing it with single-minded focus no matter what else was happening. Zuko often worried that the house could burn down around her and his daughter wouldn't notice. Whenever he mentioned his concerns to his Uncle or his mother, they just laughed at him and promised that he was exactly the same. Once, when Uncle had tried to talk him into a blind date, the man had told him that parenting was his latest obsessive project. He hadn't really been able to deny the accusation, but he hadn't gone on the date either.

Back in the kitchen, Zuko pondered his own empty stomach. He'd skipped breakfast because he'd been dragged onto a conference call right after making Izumi's breakfast, and he just hadn't resurfaced until it was time to give her a snack. Grabbing another apple from the bowl, he started making another plate of slices and peanut butter. Plate in hand, he settled on the couch to watch a cartoon with Izumi while they munched. The show was all high-pitched voices and glaringly bright animation, and was in fact one of his least favorite parts of parenting, so when he felt his phone vibrate, he told himself it might be important and gratefully accepted the distraction. Katara had replied to his messages with a glaringly terse, No. When no further explanation came, his chest felt tight at the thought of upsetting her. It wasn't until the next notifications came in that he realized how fully he'd put his foot in his mouth.

Aang has been removed from "The GAang"

Sokka renamed the chat "~Water Tribe~"

Fuck. He bit his thumb nail, staring at the notifications.

"Dad?" Izumi asked, breaking his anxious spiral.

"Uh," he blinked to clear his head. "What's up, sweetie?" She pointed at the screen, where the next episode was loading.

"Can I have another show?" Zuko shook his head, and grabbed the remote to shut the TV off. "Not right now. We'll watch another one after dinner, okay? Why don't you finish this lovely picture?"

"Okay," she sighed, and slumped down until she melted back onto her seat on the floor. He laughed and leaned over to kiss the top of her head, which made her whine and squirm away. "Can you draw the fire-breathing?" she asked, blinking up at him with pleading eyes.

"Where?" he asked, frowning. From what he could decipher, she was drawing the princess ninja character from her favorite show, and her unicorn sidekick.

"The unicorn," she told him, in a voice that implied the Duh. You're so uncool, Dad.

"Riiight. Okay, I'll help you with that in a bit. I'm gonna clean up and take another meeting real quick." She turned back to the drawing, and he unlocked his phone again, and seeing that Katara still hadn't said anything else, he pulled up a new text and addressed it to just Katara.

I'm so sorry, he typed out and sent before he could second guess it. Barely a moment passed before her reply came through.

K: Don't worry. You didn't know

Z: Still, I was an idiot

K: I just kind of dropped the bomb and walked away though

Z: Been there

It was true - of anyone, Zuko felt like he had the least reason to criticize how Katara handled delivering big news. Seven years ago, he had stood over a hospital bassinet, holding his phone with shaking hands as he attached the brand new photo and typed out Mai died. This is Izumi. Uncle Iroh had taken the phone away after that, and he and Zuko's mother had pressed close on either side of him, holding him up as alway. He'd never offered his friends any further explanation, and though they'd already drifted apart quite a bit, he knew it wasn't really okay to leave them all hanging. He'd done it anyway, though. There had been an outpouring of shock and sympathy and a hundred other emotions Zuko hadn't been able to deal with, and in the end he had muted the thread for a month.

The morning after he opened it again, there was a photo of a different tiny baby, and Katara's caption read simply, "This is Kya." Nobody had answered overnight, but he knew that Aang and Sokka and Suki had been with her in person, probably filling her room with balloons and stuffed animals and laughter. The thought had made his chest ache, and he'd been surprised to find that it wasn't bitterness, but a longing to be a part of that too. So he'd sent a congratulations text and a bouquet of sunflowers and chrysanthemums, and then he'd gotten out of bed to fix Izumi a bottle.

K: It's not the same, Zuko. I had a choice.

Z: Still. It must suck. I'm really sorry.

K: Thanks. I'm okay though.

It was a dismissal, but he couldn't stop himself from replying anyway. Good.

His mother and uncle came for dinner that night, and when Iroh was recruited to play tea party with Izumi, Ursa shoved her son towards a kitchen chair, poured them each a glass of wine, and took over the cooking.

"Mom, you don't have to do that, I don't mind cooking," he insisted. She selected a knife from the block on the counter and waved it at him with unsettling nonchalance.

"I am your mother, and you will do as I say," she said, the warm smile that spread over her lips belying her stern tone. "So park it." He sighed, but lifted his hands in surrender and retreated to the table with his glass. Ursa pulled a bell pepper towards her and sliced into it. Zuko took a sip of wine, relaxing into the rhythm of his mother's methodical chopping and the distant sound of Iroh and Izumi laughing. As she worked, Ursa filled him in on the mundane details of her life - the book she was reading, Ikem's rehearsals with the youth theater group, Kiyi's millions of interior decorating plans. It was nice, actually, to not be doing anything for the moment, though he would never admit it to his mom.

"How is Ikem?" he asked. "Is his back going to be better in time to move Kiyi into her new apartment?" He's smiling a little as he says it, thinking of his stepfather stubbornly trying to insist that he absolutely had not thrown out his back as they were unloading bags of potting soil for Ursa's new greenhouse. Zuko had abandoned him hunched over in the driveway, still insisting to his shoes that he wasn't nearly old enough for that, and promptly told on him to Ursa. Shocking absolutely nobody, Ikem's protests had petered out once he was deposited on the couch and his wife started doting on her poor noble husband, sacrificing himself for her garden.

"Oh he's already insisting you and he will have that couch of hers up the stairs no problem," she rolled her eyes, but her smile was smitten. Zuko winced.

"I hope Kiyi's been lifting weights. You're gonna have to run interference for us." Ursa laughed and smiled slyly.

"I'm already practicing struggling with the boxes." Ursa picked up the cutting board full of vegetable slices and suddenly hunched over as though they had turned to lead. "Honey, would you lend me a hand with this?" she asked Zuko with a strained smile and exaggerated puppy dog eyes. "It's much heavier than it looks." Zuko laughed, but played along and got up to take hold of the board too and help her pretend to heave it up over the stove. "Whew!" his mother sighed, wiping imaginary sweat from her brow.

"You're good," he told her, taking his seat again.

"Well, I was quite the actress back in the day," she reminded him.
"Brava," he praised, raising his glass to her. She bobbed in a well-practiced curtsy and raised hers back, and together they sipped their wine.

The food sizzled in the pan, and Ursa poked at it with a wooden spoon, swirling her drink around her glass contemplatively. Zuko had come to learn that while his mother was often silent, it was never without purpose, and this one felt as though she was preparing her words. He wondered what his mother was building to.

"You sounded distracted on the phone earlier," she said, and Zuko was taken aback. Whatever she wanted to discuss, he hadn't expected it to be his behavior. He tried to remember what he had said on the phone with her when they were confirming dinner, and found that he really hadn't said much of anything.

"Um, maybe a little?" She nodded to herself, still looking at the food. His mother had never needed to see his face to read his mind.

"Yes. And you were being very quiet just now. Are you worried about something?" That was usually a good bet with him - he was nearly constantly anxious about one thing or another, but a quick mental inventory revealed nothing pressing.

"Not really," he said truthfully. His mother hummed.

"Something on your mind, then?" As so often happened with his feelings, it hadn't occurred to him until she asked. All day, his mind had kept returning to his conversation with Katara, thoughts tripping over their short messages and the idea that Aang had been summarily kicked out of the group chat and symbolically their friend group.

"I heard from my college friends today," he told her, almost without thinking. Ursa turned from the stove to raise an eyebrow at him.

"You don't sound happy about it," she noted. Ursa hadn't met all of "the GAang" as they had once called themselves. He hadn't reconnected with her until just after he graduated, so the only one she ended up meeting was Katara, when she spent a summer with him here in this very house, back when it was the rundown remnants of their family's old vacation cottage. Uncle Iroh had been the one to host them for spring breaks on Ember Island and study sessions at his first tea shop.

"Katara and Aang are splitting up," he said, frowning into the bottom of his glass. His mother's mouth twisted in sympathy, but her eyes were strangely unreadable.

"Do they have kids?" she asked. Zuko nodded.

"Three." Ursa hummed sadly.

"That's hard. Do you know if she's alright?" He nodded again.

"I talked to her a little after she texted the group chat. I kinda thought she was joking and put my foot in my mouth." He winced.

"Oh, honey," his mother sighed.

"Yeah. But, uh, she said she was okay. I don't know any details, but apparently it was her decision."

"Are you alright? I know you were very close to them. Especially Katara." He didn't know what to make of the undertone in his mother's voice, but his chest felt a little tight at the reminder of what he'd once had with those friends, and - his mother was right - especially Katara.

"I guess it feels kind of weird to find out in a group text," he admitted. "We were all really close, but she was my best friend." A memory hits him, and he laughs a little sadly. "You know, she almost made me be her maid of honor?"

"No, I don't think you mentioned."

"Yeah, she threatened to make me wear the dress and everything." Ursa smiled at him, but it was oddly sad.

"What happened?" Zuko frowned a little. He actually wasn't sure how he ended up being one of the groomsmen instead.

"I don't really know. I told her halter tops make my shoulders look weird, and then she ended up asking Suki."

"I meant what happened with your friendship?" He sighed, and shrugged.

"Nothing, really. We didn't have a falling out. She went back to school in Ba Sing Se, I moved back to Caldera to clean up Dad's mess, and the next thing you know, we were both married, and it had been months since we spoke outside the group chat."

"Well, maybe you two can start talking again. She could probably use a friend right now." He hummed noncommittally, thinking once more of the shortness of Katara's messages. If she needed a friend, she hadn't seemed particularly interested in that friend being him. His mother walked over to him and brushed her fingers through his hair like when he was little, and he was surprised to find it still had the same magical comforting effect it used to. "You know what your uncle always says about destiny." She bent and kissed the crown of his head before releasing him to return to her cooking.