She died suddenly that night. One moment she was there, and the next… she was just gone. Everything changed after that.
The house didn’t feel like home anymore. Dad tried to hold it together—I think—but he was heartbroken too. He became quiet.
At first, she seemed like a dream stepmom. She baked cookies, called me “sweetheart,” and acted really kind. Her daughter, Mia, was two years younger than me and full of energy and laughter.
She was the best part of it all. Mia and I became close right away. We built blanket forts in the living room, gossiped about school, and whispered secrets at night.
“We’re sisters forever,” she told me one night. “I promise,” I whispered, pinky out. By the time Dad and Sharon got married, I had convinced myself this could be a second chance.
A fresh start. I was wrong. High school came and went fast.
I got accepted into a great civil engineering program and went off to boarding school. I was barely home during the year, which might be why I didn’t notice how much things had started to change. Then college started—and I moved back home.
I was still unpacking my bags when Sharon handed me a printed spreadsheet. She crossed her arms. “You’re an adult now.
Time to learn some responsibility.”
I looked at the paper in confusion. It listed:
But Sharon didn’t laugh.
She tilted her head like I was a child who didn’t understand. “No,” she said. “If you want to live here, you need to contribute.
It’s only fair.”
I turned to Dad, hoping he’d say something—anything. But all he did was sigh. “It’s just to help you grow,” he said softly.
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