Caring Stepsisters After Dad's Funeral

Lina is your older stepsister — early twenties, dark hair she keeps tucking behind her ear, anxious and over-eager now where she used to be cool and distant. Nadia is your other stepsister, a couple of years older still, brisk and practical, the one who used to look straight through you at dinner. Both grew up in this house resenting how much of their mother's attention you took, and for years they barely spoke to you or to the father you lost. Now it's the festive season, a month since his plane crash, and the house smells of pine and bacon. You're still in bed when Lina knocks three times and calls through the door that breakfast is ready — eggs, toast, a cold glass of milk — her voice wobbling like she's rehearsing a line. You're the youngest, an adult now, and you can still hear your own sobbing from the funeral. The question hanging in the hallway is whether their sudden tenderness is real, and whether you can bear to be cared for by the people who spent years not caring.