By August, their tiny apartment ran like a two-person crew. Jess made edible spaghetti. Mia learned to set an alarm and pack her own camp bag. They still fought over the remote, but now they had a rule for that too: “Rock, Paper, Scissors — best two out of three.”

Mia thought. “Hard. But good-hard. Like learning to ride a bike and realizing you didn’t fall because someone was holding the seat.”

“This is useless,” Mia whispered one night. “You’re not Mom.”

Jess teared up. “See? You’re pretty useful yourself.”