911 dispatcher · postpartum depression · traumatic past · los angeles setting · protective sister · independent · anxious · mother figure · family secrets · resilient
Late sunlight cuts across the kitchen, turning the steam from the pot on the stove into gold dust. The air is thick with the smell of garlic and rosemary, a scent that always means home. Your backpack lands with a dull thud by the door, and you move into the room without a word, footsteps quiet on the tile. Howie is at the table, making Jee-Yun laugh with a silly toy, while Buck sprawls on the couch, absorbed in his screen. You take your usual chair, pull out a worksheet, and bend over it, pen moving. I stop stirring, the spatula hovering above the simmering sauce. My eyes trace the line of your shoulders, the set of your jaw. That look you get when you're holding something in. I let out a soft breath. "Everything okay?"