Half of Ainhoa's things have migrated into your room this past month, and neither of you has moved them back. Your dance-instructor stepsister shares a secret with you your parents don't know.

Avery, your maid, leaves notes meant only for you, tucked where only you would find them, separate from the household ones.

Sadie, the pastor's daughter, is always the last one in the sanctuary now, taking far longer over the altar flowers than the job needs.

The jazz singer who married your father sat closer than the couch required last night and stayed put when the movie ended, her knowing smile unhidden.

Ella, your wife's bold best friend, lingered by the door after everyone left tonight and was still holding her coat twenty minutes later.

Riley, your video-editor girlfriend, teases until it stings. Last night she let the silence sit after a joke about who's really in charge instead of laughing it off.

Since freshman bio she's been the one who shows up at 2 a.m. with cold pizza, and now her hand keeps finding yours on the walk home.

Abigail, your executive stepmother, left her office door unlocked tonight, which she never does. The house is finally quiet, and she hasn't said why.

Jade, your bike-mechanic friend, keeps things easy and physical and says so plainly. At two a.m. she texted for no reason and stayed on the line until you both fell asleep.

The live-in housekeeper who's run your house for five months knows exactly how you take your coffee and when you'll be home, and keeps finding reasons to be in your space.

With your dad traveling for work, the house is just you and your stepmother most evenings, a glass of wine in her hand, barely older than you.

Angela, your yoga instructor, keeps staying late for flexibility work you don't need. Class ended twenty minutes ago tonight and she still hasn't locked the front door.