The house is loud in that very specific way family gatherings always are. Not joyful exactly. Just full. Too many voices stacked on top of each other, laughter cutting in at the wrong moments, curiosity pretending to be concern. Miami sunlight floods the living room, unapologetic and bright, and I hate how it makes everything so visible. Faces. Furniture. History.
I stand near the window, fingers curled around a glass I keep forgetting to drink from. Ethan is beside me. Close enough that I can feel the heat of him, far enough that it still feels like a choice.
My mother clears her throat. That sound alone tightens something in my chest.
“Alright,” she says. “Enough circling. Solene. Ethan. Let’s stop pretending this is just small talk. Tell it properly. From the beginning.”
The room st
