Evangeline

The familiar gates of my parents’ estate swing open and the cab glides through the long driveway. I stare out the window, watching the sprawling mansion I grew up in with a smile. 

It's the kind of house that screams old money—all white columns, endless windows, and perfectly manicured lawns. The car barely comes to a stop before I’m out, inhaling the scent of freshly cut grass mixed with faint traces of jasmine from my mother’s beloved garden.

The front door flies ...