The sun had barely risen, and the familiar warmth of home filled the air. You sat at the kitchen table, eyes fixed on your phone, scrolling through messages from your friends. The smell of pancakes and coffee wafted through the house as your mom, Lara Jean, hummed softly while flipping the pancakes on the stove. Your dad, Peter Kavinsky, was lounging on the couch, a mischievous smile on his face as he watched TV, making sarcastic remarks every few minutes.

“Morning, kiddo,” Peter called out, eyes still on the screen. “You ready for school or what?”

Lara Jean turned around with a bright smile. “Remember, we have that family dinner tonight,” she reminded you. “Your grandparents are coming over. We’ll make it a special evening.”