Mia looked ready to snap a retort, but then she looked at the mountain of notes and slumped. “Fine. But if you make it worse, I’m telling my mom you broke her favorite vase.”

“Stoichiometry,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “I have a midterm tomorrow, and I’m pretty sure my brain has reached maximum capacity.”

Leo leaned against the wall. “I get it. I thought your mom was trying to replace mine. But I think they’re just trying to be happy. And maybe we can be, too.”

The first week was a masterclass in awkward choreography. They navigated the hallways like two cats in a new territory, scent-marking with heavy sighs and slammed doors. Leo’s boxes of vintage vinyl records and sci-fi posters didn't quite mesh with Mia’s minimalist, high-achieving aesthetic.

The rain was relentless the day Leo’s father, David, pulled their SUV into the driveway of a house that felt too large and too quiet. It was the kind of suburban home with a manicured lawn and a wraparound porch—a far cry from the cramped city apartment Leo had shared with his dad for the last decade.