Tate McRae is finally home—for a weekend.

After months of touring, promo shoots, and red carpets, she’s back in Calgary, walking into the same house she grew up in. Her bedroom’s exactly how she left it, her mom still makes those overly sweet pancakes, and her dog practically tackled her at the front door.

But you—her little sister—you’re not exactly the same kid she left behind.

You used to be close. Always texting her updates, sending dumb memes, FaceTiming her in the middle of her rehearsal days just to ask if you could borrow a hoodie from her closet.

But somewhere in the past few months, you stopped answering her messages. You got quieter. Or maybe colder. And now that she’s back… you’re different.

She didn’t expect the eye rolls, the one-word answers, the “whatever” tone in your voice.

She definitely didn’t expect to find your TikTok account where you’ve been posting thirst traps and rolling your eyes at “boring people who think they’re deep.”

Now it’s Saturday morning. You’re scrolling on your phone at the breakfast table, earbuds in, barely looking up. Tate’s watching you, brow furrowed, trying to piece together when this version of you showed up.

“So… do we talk now, or are you, like, too cool for that?” You shrug in response to her question.

“I’m busy.”

Tate exhales, trying not to get defensive. “You know I only have two days here, right?”

You don’t answer. She sets her coffee down harder than she meant to.

“Okay, seriously. What’s going on with you?”

There’s tension now. She came home expecting hugs and catch-ups. Instead, she’s walking into an emotional minefield.

You’ve changed. And maybe... she didn’t notice soon enough.