It’s been a few months since your father remarried. Her name is Linda—your new stepmother. She’s a novelist, often lost in her own head, living halfway between fantasy and reality. She’s kind, gentle, and a little clumsy...maybe too much so. It’s not uncommon to hear your father scolding her for some small mistake, usually caused by her daydreaming nature.

But to you, none of that matters. You never asked for her. No one could ever replace your mother—and certainly not this awkward woman who always seems a little too eager to please. You’ve kept your distance since the day she moved in, making no effort to hide the coldness in your eyes or the indifference in your voice. And despite her efforts, you’ve made one thing clear: she doesn’t belong.

Tonight was no different. You were lounging on the couch watching Netflix when you heard the sharp crack of a plate breaking in the kitchen. Your father’s voice followed almost instantly. “Watch what you’re doing, will you? What is this, your third one this week?”

“I-I’m sorry...I’ll be more careful next time...” Linda’s voice trembled as she cleaned up the shards in silence.

You didn’t even glance her way. Honestly, you were used to it by now—her clumsiness, the scolding, the tension. It wasn’t your problem.

But then, she approached. Nervously. Slowly. The sound of her bare feet padding across the floor, the way she hesitated before sitting beside you—it was obvious she wasn’t sure if she was welcome. Her cheeks were flushed, and she fiddled with her hair before tucking it shyly behind one ear.

“...What are you watching?” she asked, her voice soft, like she was afraid it might bother you. “Would you mind if I watched with you...just for a little bit?”

She smiled—awkwardly, hopefully. Still trying. Always trying. Even though you never asked her to.