The weekend felt like it arrived just in time, bringing with it the promise of rest after my first full day back at school. My body still felt sluggish, the last remnants of my illness clinging to me like a heavy coat. Saturday morning stretched out ahead of me, quiet and unhurried, the kind of morning that made it easy to stay in bed just a little longer.

The faint sound of rain tapping against the windowpane mixed with the comforting scent of coffee drifting from the kitchen. Somewhere downstairs, the muffled clatter of dishes and the soft hum of Mrs. Blake's voice carried through the house. I could almost picture her moving around the kitchen, flipping pancakes or stirring something warm on the stove.

I pulled the blankets up to my chin, breathing in the peaceful moment. It had been a long week—between being sick, going back to school, and dealing with Jake's stunt in gym class, exhaustion still clung to me like a shadow. But for the first time in days, I wasn't in a rush to be anywhere or prove anything.

That peace lasted right up until I heard the unmistakable sound of Lily and Sam bickering downstairs.

"I had it first!" Lily's voice rang out, high-pitched with frustration. "That last pancake was mine!"

"No, it wasn't," Sam shot back, his tone infuriatingly casual. "You were too slow. It's a survival game, and I'm just better at it."

"Mom!" Lily whined dramatically.

Mrs. Blake's response was patient but firm. "There are more pancakes cooking. And Sam, don't hog the food."

I chuckled to myself, shaking my head as I finally pushed the blankets aside. Some things never changed.

By the time I made my way downstairs, the kitchen was alive with warm smells and morning energy. Lily was sitting at the table, her arms crossed, glaring at Sam, who was happily chewing his last bite of the disputed pancake with an infuriatingly satisfied smirk. The stack in the middle of the table had dwindled, but a fresh plate was already sizzling on the stove.

Mrs. Blake glanced over as I walked in, her face softening. "Good morning, Emily," she said. "Feeling okay today?"

I slid into my usual seat, stretching slightly. "Yeah. A little tired, but better."

"Good," she said, setting down a steaming plate in front of me. "Take it easy today. No big plans, just rest and enjoy the weekend."

Lily perked up at that, immediately switching gears. "Oh! We should play a board game later. Or—" Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "Or we could build a fort!"

Sam groaned. "We already built one last week."

"Yeah, and it was awesome," she said, poking at her pancake with her fork. "We could make it even bigger this time. Right, Emily?"

I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in days. "That actually sounds kind of fun."

Mrs. Blake chuckled as she sat down with her own cup of coffee. "As long as you don't turn the entire living room into a construction site again."

Lily gasped in mock offense. "It was structurally sound!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "It collapsed in less than ten minutes."

"That's just because we needed stronger reinforcements!"

Their back-and-forth made me laugh, the warmth of the kitchen settling deep in my bones. It wasn't anything grand or extraordinary—it was just a Saturday morning, full of small moments and familiar comforts. But after everything that had happened that week, it felt like exactly what I needed.

After breakfast, Lily practically dragged me into the living room, her excitement bubbling over as she waved a craft kit in my face. "We're making snowflake ornaments today! You have to help."

"Do I have a choice?" I teased, raising an eyebrow, though her enthusiasm was infectious.

"Nope!" she chirped, already pulling me toward the dining table, where Sam was halfheartedly setting up the supplies.

The table was covered in craft paper, scissors, glue, and an alarming amount of glitter. At first, Sam sat back with his arms crossed, making a show of pretending he had better things to do. But once Lily started cutting out elaborate snowflake designs and sprinkling them liberally with glitter, he gave in, grabbing a pair of scissors and mumbling, "Bet mine will look way better than yours."

That set Lily off instantly. "No way! Mine's going to be perfect."

"What are you talking about? Yours already looks like a mangled spider web," Sam shot back, holding up his half-finished snowflake like it was a masterpiece.

I couldn't help but laugh, carefully folding my own paper before making small, deliberate cuts. The challenge between Lily and Sam quickly escalated, turning into a full-fledged competition of who could create the most elaborate snowflake. Every few minutes, one of them would hold theirs up dramatically, forcing Mrs. Blake and me to judge their "artistry" as if we were in some high-stakes craft competition.

Mrs. Blake eventually got in on the fun, laughing as she tried to follow one of Lily's more complicated patterns. But when she unfolded her creation, it looked more like a series of jagged holes than a delicate snowflake. "I think I'll stick to baking snowflakes instead of making them," she said, holding up her lopsided attempt with a grin.

Lily gasped, covering her mouth as she tried to stifle her laughter. "Mom, that's so bad!"

"Hey, I tried," Mrs. Blake said, feigning offense as she playfully flicked a bit of glitter at Lily. "You'll have to teach me the right way next time."

I sat back, letting myself soak in the warmth of the moment. It was such a simple thing—cutting out paper snowflakes, laughing over bad designs, and competing over whose was the best—but it felt good. Normal. Like I belonged here.

Just as we were finishing up, the doorbell rang. The cheerful energy in the room quieted a bit as Mrs. Blake wiped her hands on a dish towel and made her way to the door.

From my spot at the table, I could hear muffled voices, but I couldn't make out exactly who it was. My stomach tightened slightly—unexpected visitors always made me a little nervous.

When Mrs. Blake returned, she looked thoughtful. "That was Mr. Peterson," she said, her eyes settling on me.

"Mr. Peterson?" I asked, caught off guard. "My principal?"

She nodded. "He stopped by to check on you. Said he wanted to make sure you were feeling okay after missing so much school."

I blinked, genuinely surprised. "That's... nice of him."

"He seemed genuinely concerned," Mrs. Blake said, sitting down beside me. "He said you've made quite an impression at school."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. It was strange to think my principal—who had so many students to worry about—had taken time out of his day to check in on me. For a second, I thought about all the times I'd felt invisible before coming here, before finding a home with the Blakes.

Lily broke the silence first, resting her chin on her hands as she looked at me. "That means you're, like, super important now," she teased, grinning.

Sam snorted. "Or they just think she's trouble."

"Sam," Mrs. Blake warned, giving him a look, but he was already smirking at me.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Well, I guess I better keep up my reputation, then."

Mrs. Blake squeezed my shoulder gently. "You don't have to prove anything, Emily. Just keep being yourself. That's enough."

I nodded, still feeling the weight of her words as I glanced down at the snowflake in my hands. It wasn't perfect, but it was mine. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe that was enough, too.

As the afternoon turned into evening, the house settled into its usual rhythm. The scent of dinner lingered in the air, a blend of roasted chicken and herbs that still made my stomach feel warm even after the plates had been cleared. The soft hum of the dishwasher and the faint clinking of silverware filled the kitchen as we finished tidying up. Lily and Sam had already retreated upstairs, their laughter echoing faintly down the hall before fading into the quiet of the night.

Mrs. Blake and I remained at the table, the wooden surface now cleared except for the flickering glow of a candle she'd lit during dinner. The flame cast soft, dancing shadows across her face, making her expression seem even gentler.

"You did well this week," she said, breaking the silence with a warm smile. Her voice was soft, but it carried the weight of genuine pride. "It's not easy going back after being sick, but you handled it."

"Thanks," I said, my fingers tracing the edge of my napkin. "I'm just glad to feel normal again."

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady. "Normal is a good place to be. But don't forget—you're surrounded by people who care about you, no matter what."

Her words made something in my chest loosen, like I'd been holding my breath without realizing it. "I know," I said, my voice quieter now. "It means a lot."

We sat there for a moment, the silence between us filled with the comforting sounds of the house—Sam's footsteps overhead, the faint creak of the floorboards, and the occasional pop of the fireplace in the living room.

After the table was cleared and the kitchen was spotless, I wandered into the living room. The room glowed with the soft light of the fire, its warmth spreading into the corners. I curled up in the corner of the couch, pulling a knitted blanket over my legs and resting my head against the armrest. The flickering flames cast golden hues across the walls, and for a while, I just stared at them, my thoughts swirling in the quiet.

Mrs. Blake found me there not long after, her footsteps soft as she entered the room. She had a mug of tea in her hands, the steam curling upward as she sat down beside me. She didn't say anything right away, simply leaning back into the couch with a small sigh, her presence calm and steady.

"You've been quiet tonight," she said eventually, her tone gentle, almost coaxing. "What's on your mind?"

I hesitated, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. "I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I guess I've just been thinking a lot lately."

"About what?" she asked, her eyes never leaving mine. There was no pressure in her voice, just a quiet invitation to share.

I turned my gaze to the fire, the flickering light reflected in my eyes. "About how different things feel now. A year ago..." My voice faltered for a moment, and I swallowed hard. "A year ago, I never would've thought I'd be sitting here, in a place that actually feels... safe."

Mrs. Blake's expression softened, her face illuminated by the firelight. "I'm glad you feel that way, Emily," she said quietly. "You've been through a lot, but you've handled it with so much strength."

I gave her a faint smile, though my chest felt heavy. "Sometimes it doesn't feel like strength. Sometimes it just feels like... surviving."

She nodded slowly, her understanding palpable. "That's okay. Surviving is its own kind of strength. And little by little, surviving can turn into thriving. It just takes time."

Her words hung in the air, wrapping around me like the blanket on my lap. I thought about them, turning them over in my mind as the warmth of the fire seeped into my skin. "Do you think I'm... thriving?" I asked, my voice small but steady.

She looked at me, her eyes full of conviction. "I think you're on your way," she said firmly. "And I think you're doing better than you realize."

The room fell into a comfortable silence. The fire crackled softly, its warmth filling the space, while outside, the faint whisper of wind brushed against the windows. I leaned back against the couch, letting Mrs. Blake's words sink in.

For the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of something I hadn't dared to name before. It wasn't quite happiness or even peace—but it was hope, fragile and quiet, like the flickering flame before me.

And in that moment, it felt like enough.

The living room was bathed in soft light as the morning sun filtered through the curtains. I sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, my eyes fixed on the window. Outside, the snow glistened, untouched and pristine, save for the tiny paw prints of a squirrel scurrying around. It darted back and forth, digging small holes in the snow, pausing every so often to glance around.

I couldn't help but smile at its persistence. It was clearly on a mission, its little body quivering with determination as it searched for its hidden treasure. There was something soothing about watching the small creature, its focus and drive unbothered by the cold. The world outside seemed so still, so peaceful.

The sounds of breakfast in the kitchen were distant but familiar—Lily's giggles, Sam's occasional groans, and the clink of plates and silverware. Normally, I would've been at the table with them, but this morning, I just wanted to sit quietly and watch the world outside.

I didn't notice Mrs. Blake until she sat down beside me, her mug of coffee cradled in her hands. She followed my gaze to the window, a soft smile forming on her lips.

"What's caught your attention out there?" she asked, her tone light.

I nodded toward the squirrel, which was now halfway up a tree, a nut clutched triumphantly in its tiny paws. "That little guy," I said. "He's been searching for a while. It's kind of funny, but also... I don't know. Nice to watch."

She took a sip of her coffee, her eyes still on me. "You didn't come to breakfast," she said gently. "I was starting to wonder if you were okay."

I hesitated, not wanting her to worry. "I'm fine," I said quickly. "I just... wanted a quiet morning. Watching the squirrel made me feel calm. Sometimes it's nice to just sit and watch, you know?"

Mrs. Blake nodded, her smile softening. "I do know. There's something peaceful about nature, especially in moments like this. It has a way of grounding you."

We sat there in comfortable silence for a while, both of us watching the squirrel as it climbed higher into the tree. The kids' laughter drifted in from the kitchen, faint but warm, a reminder of the lively family I'd found myself a part of.

"I like mornings like this," I said after a while, my voice barely above a whisper. "Where everything feels... still. Like nothing bad can happen, even if it's just for a little while."

Mrs. Blake reached over, placing a hand on mine. "I'm glad you're finding moments like that," she said. "They're important. And it's okay to take time for yourself when you need it."

I nodded, a small smile forming on my lips. "Thanks for understanding."

She gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Always, Emily."

The squirrel eventually disappeared into the branches, leaving the snowy yard empty once again. I sighed, the peaceful spell broken but leaving a lingering warmth in its wake.

"Breakfast is still warm if you're hungry," Mrs. Blake said, standing and giving my shoulder a gentle pat. "Come join us when you're ready."

"I will," I said, watching her head back toward the kitchen.

For a moment, I stayed on the couch, letting the quiet settle around me again. The morning had started differently, but it felt like the right kind of different—one that reminded me it was okay to slow down and just be.

Eventually, I stood and stretched, making my way to the kitchen. Lily and Sam were still at the table, their plates half-empty, and Mrs. Blake looked up with a smile as I joined them. It wasn't the start of the day I'd planned, but as I settled into my seat and reached for a piece of toast, I realized it had been exactly what I needed.

That evening, after dinner, the warm glow of the fireplace still flickering in the living room, Lily came bounding down the stairs with her arms full of board games.

"Game night!" she declared, dropping the boxes dramatically onto the coffee table. "Mom, can we play?"

Mrs. Blake chuckled from her spot in the armchair, sipping on her tea. "That depends. What game are we playing?"

Lily started rifling through the boxes, her face scrunched in concentration. "We played Chutes and Ladders last time, and Sam cheats at Monopoly—"

"I do not!" Sam interrupted, crossing his arms.

"Yes, you do," Lily said without missing a beat. "Anyway, I vote we play The Game of LIFE!" She held up the brightly colored box like it was a treasure.

Sam groaned. "Really? That game takes forever."

"That's the fun of it!" Lily said, already pulling the board out. "C'mon, Emily, you'll play, right?"

I smiled, shifting to sit cross-legged on the floor as Lily began setting up. "Sure."

Mrs. Blake reached over to place her mug on the side table and leaned forward with a knowing smile. "I suppose I'll join too. Looks like I don't have a choice."

Sam grumbled but sat down anyway, helping Lily divide the tiny plastic cars and colorful pegs. As we picked our game pieces, Lily grabbed the pink car and placed her peg in the driver's seat with an excited grin.

"Alright," she said, bouncing in place, "who's going first?"

We spun the wheel, and after a few turns, we were all making our way down the winding path of LIFE. Careers were chosen, salaries were set, and soon enough, it was time for Lily to reach the first big decision—marriage.

She landed on the Get Married space and grinned. "Oh! Time to get a wife."

Sam, who had been half-paying attention, snapped his head up. "You mean husband?"

"No," Lily said matter-of-factly, picking a second pink peg from the pile and placing it in the passenger seat of her car. "I'm marrying a girl."

Sam blinked. "Wait, we can do that?"

Mrs. Blake smiled, watching the exchange with quiet amusement. "You can marry whoever you want in this house, sweetheart."

Lily stuck her tongue out at Sam. "See? My game, my rules. I have a wife now."

Sam huffed but then landed on the same space a few turns later. He sat there, tapping his chin dramatically, before reaching for a blue peg and placing it next to his own.

"Well, then," he said, a smirk creeping onto his face, "guess I'm getting a husband."

Lily gasped in exaggerated delight. "We're both so lucky."

Mrs. Blake chuckled, shaking her head. "I love how this game suddenly became about breaking norms."

Sam shrugged. "Hey, if Lily gets a wife, I get a husband. Fair is fair."

Lily was already moving on, spinning the wheel and groaning when she had to pay taxes. "Ugh, the worst part of the game," she muttered, tossing a few game bills into the bank.

"Welcome to adulthood," Mrs. Blake teased.

I laughed, spinning the wheel for my next turn. The car moved down the board, and I landed on the Buy a House space.

"Okay, here we go," I said, flipping over the housing options. "Time to choose my dream home."

I scanned my choices—there was a cozy Victorian, a modern family home, a flashy mansion... and then, at the bottom of the pile, the cheapest house: a Split-Level Home.

I stared at it for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Well, I guess I'll be living in a house that's literally split in half."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, good luck when a strong gust of wind comes through. It'll separate like a sandwich."

"Oh no," I said, feigning dramatic horror. "Half of me will be living in the kitchen, and the other half will be in the garage."

Lily giggled. "At least you get two front doors. Think of all the exits!"

Mrs. Blake just shook her head with a smirk. "Emily, you're really going for the budget option, huh?"

"Gotta save money," I said, winking. "College isn't cheap."

Lily was next. She picked up the cards, scanning through her options before grinning. "I'm getting the Beach House," she announced proudly, slamming it down on the table.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You do realize that hurricanes exist, right?"

"Yup," Lily said with a big smile. "That's what makes it exciting! Will my house survive the next turn? Who knows?"

I covered my face with my hands, laughing. "You're literally gambling with your home."

"Hey, high risk, high reward," she said, flipping her hair dramatically. "Besides, if it washes away, I'll just build a sandcastle and call it home."

Sam just shook his head. "Y'all have no class," he muttered as he reached for his own set of housing choices.

After a long, thoughtful pause, he flipped one card onto the table.

"The Victorian Mansion," he said, smugly. "Obviously."

Lily let out an exaggerated gasp. "Ooooh, look at you, fancy man! Gonna have one of those old-fashioned libraries with a spiral staircase?"

"Absolutely," Sam said, completely serious. "And a secret passage behind a bookshelf."

Mrs. Blake laughed. "That actually sounds pretty cool."

"Thank you," Sam said, flipping his imaginary cape. "Meanwhile, you'll both be dealing with your house-related disasters while I'll be sitting in my candlelit study, sipping tea like royalty."

I grinned. "Until your heating bill comes and you have to sell your fancy chandelier."

We all burst out laughing, the game momentarily forgotten as we continued poking fun at each other's ridiculous housing choices.

Mrs. Blake wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling. "I swear, I don't think I've ever played LIFE quite like this before."

"That's because we play it our way," Lily said proudly.

And as we continued playing, our laughter echoing through the living room, I realized she was right. It wasn't just a game—it was another reminder that in this house, with this family, we got to make our own rules.

The game stretched on, filled with laughter and ridiculous moments. Sam lost most of his money after taking a risky investment, which Lily never let him live down. I somehow ended up with four kids, which made everyone—including me—howl with laughter as I struggled to fit all the tiny pegs into my plastic car.

As the game neared its end, the laughter grew louder, the teasing more relentless. We'd all made our way down the final stretch of the board, collecting paydays, dodging unexpected setbacks, and watching our little plastic families grow. But as we reached the finish line, the final calculations revealed the ultimate twist.

"Alright," Mrs. Blake said, gathering up the colorful fake money. "Let's see who made it out on top."

Lily grinned, proudly waving her stack of cash. "I have a beach house, a wife, and a solid savings account—I think it's safe to say I crushed this game."

"You lost your house in a hurricane twice and had to take out a loan," Sam reminded her, arms crossed.

"Details," Lily said, waving him off. "I rebuilt, and that's what matters."

I glanced at my own earnings. Between my budget-friendly Split-Level Home and my cautious salary choices, I had ended up with a modest but respectable sum. "I did okay," I said, shrugging. "At least my house didn't split in half completely."

Lily giggled. "Yet."

But then we turned to Sam, who was sitting unusually quiet, counting his last few crumpled bills with increasing horror.

Mrs. Blake peered over at his financial situation and barely held back a laugh. "Sam..."

Sam scowled at the game board, as if he could will it to change. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Oh, we're talking about it," I said, leaning forward with a smirk. "Let's recap: you chose the most expensive Victorian mansion. You married your husband, who was apparently very high-maintenance—"

"That's not what happened," Sam interjected quickly.

Lily snorted. "Then you went to college and took out so many loans," she continued gleefully, stacking his debt cards like they were bricks in a crumbling tower.

"Then there were the lawsuits," I added, holding up one of the game cards he'd drawn.

"And the failed investments—" Lily threw in.

"And—oh, let's not forget—the three times you lost your job and had to get a lower-paying one," I finished, wiping a tear from my eye from laughing so hard.

Sam groaned dramatically, slumping back into the couch. "Why does this game hate me?"

Mrs. Blake, who was laughing just as much as we were, took a deep breath to compose herself. "So, let's see the final count," she said, pretending to tally things up. "Emily has a solid savings, Lily somehow managed to survive her own reckless choices, and... Sam." She turned to him, a smile playing at her lips. "Congratulations. You are officially the most bankrupt person in the game."

"I had a mansion!" Sam said, throwing his hands up. "I was supposed to be wealthy!"

Lily cackled. "You had a very dramatic fall from grace."

"I ended with negative money," Sam muttered, shaking his head. "I owe the bank. I owe my plastic children."

I gasped. "Your kids are in debt because of you?" I clutched my chest, pretending to be appalled. "What kind of father are you?"

"A terrible one, apparently," Sam grumbled, stuffing his fake money into his pocket like he could somehow hide his shame.

Lily wiped a tear from her eye, still giggling. "This is the best game we've ever played."

Mrs. Blake chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, I suppose this was a learning experience."

"Yeah," Sam muttered. "Lesson learned: don't have kids, don't go to college, and don't trust the stock market."

"Or just don't buy a Victorian mansion when you can't afford it," I teased.

Lily grinned. "Face it, Sam, you peaked too soon."

Mrs. Blake reached over and ruffled his hair. "I think you'll recover eventually." She started stacking the game pieces, still smiling. "That was... definitely one of the most entertaining rounds of Life I've ever seen."

Sam groaned but couldn't stop himself from grinning. "Glad I could be a cautionary tale."

As we packed up the game, Lily yawned again, stretching like a cat. "I think I'm gonna go to bed," she announced. "Winning is exhausting."

Sam snorted. "You didn't even win."

"In my heart, I did," she said dramatically, flipping her hair as she marched toward the stairs.

Mrs. Blake smiled as she gathered up the last of the game pieces. "I think I'll turn in too. Emily, you staying up for a bit?"

I nodded. "Yeah, just for a little while."

After everyone else had gone upstairs, I lingered in the quiet living room. The fire had died down to embers, casting a soft orange glow across the space. I traced my fingers along the edge of the game board, lost in thought.

I'd spent so much time feeling like I didn't quite belong anywhere. But tonight, watching Lily and Sam laugh, seeing Mrs. Blake smile at us with nothing but warmth, I realized something.

I belonged here.

Maybe not forever. Maybe not in the way I once thought a family was supposed to look. But right now, in this moment, I had a place.

And that was enough.

For now, that was enough.