Noah

The sound of cereal crunching was the only thing filling the kitchen that morning.

I was halfway through my second bowl when I noticed something off — or maybe different.

Jessa was humming.

My sister — the one who’d spent the last few years trying to disappear behind oversized hoodies and sarcasm — was standing by the counter, buttering toast, humming under her breath like life wasn’t heavy for once. Her hair looked different too, soft and loose instead of tied up in ...