Her mother, Rebecca Carter, stood in the doorway with her arms folded tightly across her chest, her expression calm in a way that felt almost rehearsed.
“You’re home,” Rebecca said, her voice even, almost too even.
Olivia blinked, still trying to catch up with what she was seeing. “What… what is this?” she asked, her voice rough from fatigue.
Rebecca didn’t hesitate.
“You’re twenty-five now, Olivia. It’s time you moved out,” she said, as if she were stating something obvious, something already decided. “Your cousin needs the room more than you do.”
The words didn’t just land—they hit like a shockwave.
Olivia stood there, her brain struggling to process what she had just heard. “My… cousin?” she repeated faintly.
“Ethan Brooks,” Rebecca clarified. “He’s been going through a difficult time. He needs somewhere stable to stay, and this house is the best option.”
Olivia glanced down at her suitcases again, a hollow feeling spreading through her chest.
“You packed my things?” she asked quietly.
Rebecca nodded once, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “While you were at work. It seemed easier that way. I didn’t want to make a scene.”
A scene.
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