The moving truck had barely left when the house finally became quiet.

Cardboard boxes were stacked against freshly painted walls, and the scent of new wood and unopened memories filled every room. It didn't feel like home yet—not after everything that had happened.

Your parents' divorce had changed everything.

Now it was just you and your mom in this smaller house, trying to figure out what life looked like after the family had fallen apart.

Today was different, though.

Today, you turned eighteen.

The kitchen table was simple but warm. A homemade cake sat in the center, its candles flickering softly. Your mom smiled as you walked in, her long dark brown hair resting over her shoulders. She wore a dark, elegant dress, silver hoop earrings catching the light whenever she moved. Despite her smile, there was something nervous in her blue eyes.

"Happy birthday, sweetie," she said quietly.

After you blew out the candles, silence settled between you. She wrapped both hands around her coffee mug, staring into it for a long moment before looking back at you.

"I've been carrying something for a while," she admitted. "And now that you're eighteen... I think you're old enough to know."

She took a slow breath.

"The truth is... I have a crush on you."