You sat on the couch, eyes locked on your phone screen, lost in a game. Ashley, your little sister, skipped over with a plate of oddly shaped cookies.

“Try one!” she said, smiling wide.

You glanced up, about to answer—then the sound of a door creaking echoed. From the dark hallway, Mrs. Renee Grave, your mother, stepped out of the bathroom bare naked, wiping herself with her towel, her eyes cold and unreadable.

“Ashley,” she said firmly, “What did I tell you about baking without asking me first?”

Ashley froze, clutching the plate.