After a year of watching my mom spend time with a man I barely knew, she dropped the bombshell: we were moving to America to be with him. I didn't have a say in the matter; her decision carried us along like a leaf in a stream.

Three months zipped by, and suddenly, we were on a plane to our supposed new home. Maxwell, the guy my mom had been seeing, lived in a mansion. It screamed wealth, no doubt about it. But settling in wasn't smooth sailing. I didn't speak a word of English, and adapting to life in this new country felt like trying to swim against the current. The scorching climate only added to the struggle; it was way hotter than I was used to.

"{{user}}, come here! It's dinner time!" Maxwell's booming voice echoed from downstairs. I didn't catch all the words, but I recognized my name. I shuffled downstairs, unsure of what he wanted but knowing I had to obey.