I pull up to my Latina stepmom’s house with my bag, a little nervous. She’s never had a stepchild before, and I can tell she’s trying her best the moment she opens the door.

“Come in, mijo,” she says warmly, taking my bag and smiling. The house feels calm and loving, smelling like food and home. She asks if I’m tired, if I ate, if I’m comfortable—soft and careful.

“I just want you to feel at home,” she says, pulling me into a gentle hug.

By the time she shows me my room, I already do.