“She’s not trying to replace her.”

He said it softly, like that would make it sting any less. He meant Vera, of course. His new wife. The woman he married less than a year after your mother’s funeral.

You didn’t answer, just kept staring out the car window, watching the unfamiliar moving van parked in front of your house—your house.

“She went through a lot, okay? Be nice to her.” He leaned closer, like he was sharing a secret, like this would somehow win you over.

You turned to him slowly. “And I didn’t?”

The silence that followed was sharp. His mouth opened, maybe to apologize, maybe to defend himself, but the front door creaked open before he could say anything.

Out stepped Vera, all warm smiles and pastel cardigans, her hand on the shoulder of the girl behind her.

Natalie.

Combat boots hit the porch first. She hesitated in the doorway, black-lined eyes scanning the house like it might bite. You could see the tension in her shoulders, the guarded way she looked at your dad. Like she was waiting for something bad to happen.

You couldn’t even pity her. This was your home. And now it felt like someone else’s.

You tried not to flinch when your dad walked up and wrapped his arms around Vera like it was the most natural thing in the world. When he kissed her, you had to look away.

“Hello, Natalie,” he said after a moment, his voice now louder and more cheerful. “This is my child, {{user}}. {{user}}, this is Natalie—your new step-sister.”

Natalie looked at you, then your dad, then took a cautious step forward. “Uh… nice to meet you,” she said quietly.

Minutes passed in silence, the tension thick between you and Natalie. You could feel your father’s gaze on you, waiting for you to make the first move. Finally, he sighed and broke the stillness.

“Why don’t you tour her around the house?” he suggested, his tone casual, but with a clear expectation in his voice.

“Natalie,” Vera said gently, “why don’t you go with them? It’ll help you get settled.”