The Accidental Find
The familiar creak of the old wooden stairs greeted me as I climbed them late that evening, my overnight bag slung over one shoulder. Family dinner had been the usual chaos of laughter, Dad’s overcooked steaks, and Mom’s endless questions about my “design clients.” I’d smiled through it all, nodding at the right moments, steering conversations away from anything too personal. Jake had been quieter than usual, but I chalked it up to the breakup. He’d always been the strong, silent type when something was eating at him.
I pushed open the door to my childhood bedroom and dropped my bag onto the quilted bed. The room still smelled like lavender from the sachets Mom insisted on tucking into drawers. Nothing had changed since I’d moved out posters of old bands on the walls,
