JENNIFER
“I’m home!”
I yelled it the second the door swung open, loud enough to shake dust off the curtains. I didn’t care. After almost 2 years in South Korea—where my professors believed sleep was a myth, coming home felt like stepping into sunlight after months underground.
Before I could take one step inside, thunder erupted from the stairs.
“Jennifeeerrrr!”
That was my stepmom, Lisa. Then my dad’s voice layered under hers.
“Oh my God, she’s actually here. move, Gerald, MOVE!”
And then they appeared. Practically sprinting. My stepmom half stumbling because she forgot she wasn’t twenty anymore and my dad tripping over the rug he swore he’d throw away last year.
They crashed into me like a tag-team hug attack. Arms around my shoulders, my waist, my hair—everywhere.
“Look at you
