After a grueling twelve-hour shift at the hospital, Olivia Carter dragged herself up the familiar walkway to her childhood home, her body aching and her mind foggy with exhaustion.
All she wanted was something simple—a long, hot shower, a quiet room, and a few uninterrupted hours of sleep. The porch light glowed softly above her, casting a warm halo against the night, but what sat beneath it made her stop cold.
Her suitcases.
Neatly lined up.
Every single one of them.
For a moment, Olivia thought she was imagining things, her tired mind playing tricks on her. But no—the bags were real. Packed. Zipped. Waiting.
Her heart gave a slow, heavy thud.
Before she could even take a step forward, the front door opened.
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.
