Dad was coming home tomorrow. And I didn't know if it was a good thing.
The walk home was exhausting, and with every step, it felt like the air was just running out.
I hadn't seen him in a year.
The last time he came back, no one told me. I was stuck at the café, running around like always, and by the time I got home… he was already gone.
No call. No message. Nothing.
I stopped in front of the house, and pushed it open. The house was quiet as usual.
Maybe he hadn't come yet.
"Are you planning to stand there all night?"
I stiffened. My fingers tightened slightly around the door.
My stepmom stepped out from the hallway, folding her arms like she'd been waiting.
"I thought you'd come earlier," she said. "Or were you planning to run away again."
"I just got off work."
Her gaze dragged over me, like she was inspecting something she didn't like. "Work," she repeated. "You always have an excuse ready, don't you?"
I dropped my head.
"Your father will be here tomorrow," she said, adjusting the sleeve of her blouse. "I expect everything in this house to be in order before then."
I nodded. "Okay."
"And Eli…."
I paused.
"Don't make a scene when he gets here."
I frowned a little. "What does that mean?"
She tilted her head, studying me. "It means," she said slowly, "Don't make things uncomfortable."
"I wasn't planning to.."
"Good," she cut in smoothly. "Because you'd regret it after."
I held her gaze for a moment. "I'm not trying to cause problems."
"You don't have to try," she said. "You usually do it naturally."
My jaw tightened. But I didn't respond. There wasn't anything to say that wouldn't turn into something else.
———
I didn't sleep much.
Every time I closed my eyes, I kept thinking about it.
What would he say?
Would he ask about me?
Would he even notice anything was wrong?
I turned on my side. Then the other.
Nothing helped. At some point, I gave up trying.
I reached for my phone. 4:00 a.m.
I stared at the screen for a second, then sat up slowly, rubbing my face. "Yeah… sleep's not happening."
If I couldn't sleep, I could at least do something useful.
The house was silent when I stepped out.
I started small. Wiping the table, the counters. Adjusting things that didn't even need fixing.
A chair slightly out of place…I pushed it in. Every bit of dust I could find….I got rid of it.
I scrubbed every stain until it disappeared, and I could see my reflection.
My back started to ache after a while. I ignored it.
"If everything looks fine…" I whispered, scrubbing harder, "…maybe he'd look at me differently."
Time passed without me noticing.
My shoulders felt heavy. But I kept going.
Because stopping meant thinking. And thinking made everything worse.
By the time I finally straightened up, breathing slightly heavier, the sky outside had started to lighten. 6:00 a.m.
I looked around. Everything looked… good. Better than usual.
I wiped my hands on a cloth, glancing around one more time.
"Okay," I muttered. "That should be enough."
Then…a dragging sound snapped me out of it.
I turned toward the hallway. And froze.
My stepmom was there. Dragging a box across the floor. My box.
"What are you doing?" I asked, stepping closer.
She didn't answer. Just kept pulling it like I wasn't even there. She pushed a door open.
My old room.
Dust immediately filled the air as the door creaked wider.
She dragged the box inside and dropped it.
"Didn't I tell you to move your things?" she said, not even looking at me.
"Move them where?" I asked, confused. "They're already…."
"Out of that room," she snapped, turning to face me now. "Or are you trying to embarrass me in front of your father?"
"This room is barely even used," I said, frowning. "It hasn't been cleaned in…"
"Then clean it," she cut in immediately.
I let out a short breath. "I've been cleaning since 4 a.m."
She looked around, unimpressed. "And yet," she hissed, "this is still a mess. I shouldn't have to tell you everything," she stepped closer. "Use your head for once."
I went quiet.
She leaned in slightly, lowering her gaze.
"Let me make something very clear to you, Eli," she said. "When your father walks in here, everything will be exactly how I want it."
I held her gaze. "And if it's not?" I asked quietly.
Her lips curved slightly. "Then I'll make sure he knows exactly who to blame."
I didn't respond.
"And watch what you say to him today," she added. "No complaints. No makeup stories. And no attitude."
"Do you understand?" she pressed.
"Yes stepmother," I said finally.
She studied me for a second, then straightened her back. "Good. Now, get to work."
And just like that, she walked away.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the box at my feet.
I let out a slow breath. "Okay."
I bent down, picked up the box, and stepped fully into the room.
I coughed lightly, setting the box down. "Guess I'm back here," I muttered.
I rolled up my sleeves. And started cleaning again.