The morning of New Year's Eve was quiet, wrapped in the kind of peaceful hush that only winter could bring. Outside, the snow still blanketed the yard, untouched except for a few faint tracks from the neighbor's cat. The weak morning sun cast long, golden streaks across the frosted windowpanes, making the icicles hanging from the porch railing glisten like crystals.

I stirred beneath my blankets, listening to the muffled sounds of laughter drifting up from downstairs. Sam and Lily's giggles echoed through the house, full of the kind of excitement only kids could have on the last day of the year. I could hear the clatter of dishes, the low hum of conversation, and the unmistakable sizzle of something frying on the stove.

The smell hit me as soon as I stepped into the hallway—warm, buttery pancakes, laced with vanilla and cinnamon, mixed with the faintest hint of coffee brewing. It was the kind of smell that made the house feel even cozier, even safer.

By the time I made it to the kitchen, Sam and Lily were already at the table, Lily swinging her legs happily beneath her chair as she shoveled syrup-drenched pancakes into her mouth. Sam was slower, flipping through a book with one hand while lazily twirling his fork in the other.

Mrs. Blake stood by the stove, her hair pulled into a loose bun, her sleeves rolled up as she flipped another pancake onto the growing stack. The kitchen was warm, the kind of warmth that wasn't just from the stove but from the feeling of home, the kind of warmth I was still getting used to.

She turned when she heard me, her expression soft. "Morning, Emily," she greeted, the light from the window catching in her blue eyes. "Sleep well?"

I hesitated for half a second before nodding. "Yeah."

It was a lie, but a small one. The truth was, I'd woken up at least three times during the night, my mind tangled with thoughts of tomorrow, of next week, of the adoption that was only days away. The weight of it had settled deep in my chest, making sleep elusive. But I didn't want to dampen the mood. Not today.

Lily barely looked up from her plate, too focused on stuffing another bite into her mouth. "What are we doing today, Mom?" she mumbled around her food.

Mrs. Blake shot her a pointed look. "Lily, don't talk with your mouth full," she said, though there was a faint amusement in her voice. She flipped the last pancake, then turned back toward the table, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. The scent of warm maple syrup and melted butter filled the air, making the kitchen feel like the safest place in the world.

"I thought we could keep it simple today," she continued, glancing at me. "Maybe bake something sweet together, play some board games, and just relax until midnight."

I reached for the syrup, pouring a small amount onto my plate. The idea of a low-key night sounded perfect—no big parties, no overwhelming crowds, just the quiet comfort of family. I let the warmth of her words settle over me, like the feeling of wrapping myself in a soft blanket on a cold night.

"That sounds nice," I murmured, my voice softer than I intended.

Lily, who had already moved on to her second pancake, gasped dramatically. "Wait! Does that mean we get to stay up until midnight?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Obviously, Lily. It's New Year's Eve."

Lily's face lit up like she'd just won the lottery. "Oh my gosh, this is gonna be the best night ever!"

Mrs. Blake laughed, shaking her head fondly as she set a pitcher of orange juice on the table. "You say that every year, Lily."

"Yeah, but this year is different," she declared, jabbing her fork in the air for emphasis. "It's Emily's first New Year's Eve with us. That makes it extra special."

Her words caught me off guard, like a warm light flickering to life inside my chest.

I glanced at Mrs. Blake, expecting her to downplay it, but instead, she just smiled, giving me a look that felt like reassurance. "She's right," she said, sitting down across from me. "This year is special."

For a moment, I let myself believe it.

I took a slow sip of my orange juice, the cold tang grounding me, as outside, the wind picked up, shaking the last few leaves from the trees. Inside, though, everything was still, warm, safe.

By midday, the kitchen had transformed into a whirlwind of flour, sugar, and laughter. The scent of vanilla and melted chocolate filled the air, mingling with the comforting warmth of the oven. Outside, the wind howled against the house, rattling the windows every so often, but inside, everything was cozy and alive with energy.

Mrs. Blake had pulled out her worn, handwritten recipe cards, setting them carefully on the counter. "We'll start with the sugar cookies," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Then we'll tackle the chocolate cake."

Lily, already covered in a dusting of flour, bounced excitedly on her toes. "I call dibs on the cookie cutters!" she announced, grabbing the tin full of metal shapes and dumping them onto the counter.

"Lily, slow down," Mrs. Blake chuckled. "We haven't even rolled out the dough yet."

I stood by the mixing bowl, my sleeves pushed up, a wooden spoon in my hand as I carefully folded the butter into the sugar. The rhythmic motion of stirring was oddly soothing, and for a moment, I felt lighter.

Lily was in her own little world, pressing the cookie cutters into the soft dough with an almost alarming level of enthusiasm. She wiggled her tongue in concentration as she cut out stars, snowflakes, and bells, placing them onto a baking sheet in a completely haphazard fashion.

Across the kitchen, Sam sat at the table, nose buried in his massive space encyclopedia. He was only half paying attention to us until Lily lifted a star-shaped cookie cutter and grinned.

"Look! A star cookie!" she said triumphantly.

Without glancing up from his book, Sam muttered, "Stars don't have five points, you know."

Lily huffed dramatically, crossing her arms. "It's a cookie, Sam. It doesn't have to be scientifically accurate."

I snorted into the mixing bowl, trying to hold back my laughter. The bickering between them was so familiar now—so comfortable, like something siblings would do.

Mrs. Blake, unfazed, slid a tray of perfectly shaped cookies into the oven and set the timer. "Alright, we'll let those bake while we start on the cake."

I helped whisk the cake batter, the thick chocolate mixture swirling in rich, velvety ribbons. The scent of cocoa filled the air, making my stomach grumble. Mrs. Blake poured it into two round cake pans, then slid them into the oven next to the cookies.

When the sugar cookies were done, they came out of the oven golden and warm, the scent of butter and vanilla wrapping around us like a hug.

Mrs. Blake set the piping bags on the counter and handed me one filled with pale blue icing. "Think you can handle the decorating, Emily?"

I hesitated for a moment, my fingers tightening around the bag. I'd never really done this before. What if I messed up?

"I think so," I said finally, willing myself to believe it.

Lily hovered over my shoulder, her enthusiasm unchecked. "Make that one blue! Oh! And add sprinkles to that one!"

"Lily," I said, biting back a smile, "I think you're giving out too many instructions."

"But I have a vision!" she insisted dramatically.

"Then why don't you decorate some?" I handed her a piping bag filled with pink icing.

She gasped as if I had just bestowed her with a great honor. "Yes! I shall make the prettiest cookies of all time."

Sam finally put his book aside, standing up and rolling his eyes. "You're all doing it wrong," he muttered before picking up a plain cookie and a bag of white icing.

Mrs. Blake smiled knowingly. "Oh? And what exactly do you have in mind?"

Instead of answering, Sam carefully piped tiny dots onto the surface of the cookie, adding delicate swirls that connected them. After a moment, I realized what he was making.

"A constellation," I said, leaning in to get a better look.

He nodded, satisfied. "The Orion Nebula," he said, as if that explained everything.

Lily peered over at it, frowning. "You mean to tell me you complained about my stars and then made your own star cookie?"

"Mine is scientifically accurate," Sam said smugly, making me and Mrs. Blake burst into laughter.

For the first time that day, I realized something. I wasn't just a guest in this house anymore. I wasn't some outsider watching a family from the edges. I was part of this.

The laughter, the small arguments, the warmth of baking together—I was in it, living it, belonging to it.

By the time the sun had set, the house was bathed in a warm, golden glow from the lamps, their soft light flickering against the windows. Outside, the world was still, covered in a thick blanket of snow that shimmered under the moonlight. But inside, the living room was alive with warmth and laughter, the quiet hush of winter forgotten amidst the excitement of New Year's Eve.

The coffee table was practically overflowing with snacks—bowls of buttery popcorn, stacks of the sugar cookies we'd spent the afternoon decorating, and an assortment of chips and dips. Mrs. Blake had even brought out a bottle of sparkling cider, the fancy kind that came in a green glass bottle with a golden foil top. Lily bounced excitedly in her seat as Mrs. Blake twisted the cap with a satisfying pop, pouring the fizzy liquid into glasses for each of us.

"Cheers to the New Year!" she declared, handing out the glasses.

"To the New Year!" Lily echoed dramatically, raising her glass so high she nearly spilled it.

Sam rolled his eyes but clinked his glass against hers anyway, and I did the same, a small smile tugging at my lips.

We settled onto the couch, the room cozy and full of life as board games were spread out before us. Sam, always the strategist, had pulled out a trivia game, flipping through the cards with a smug sense of confidence.

"Let's play this," he announced.

Lily immediately gasped and put her hands on her hips. "I call it now—I am the Trivia Queen!" she declared, flipping her curls over her shoulder like she was royalty.

Sam snorted. "You don't even know half the answers."

"Yes, I do!" she insisted. "I just like to be creative with them."

Mrs. Blake, amused as ever, picked up the first trivia card. "Alright, let's start easy. Who invented the telephone?"

"Thomas Edison!" Lily shouted without hesitation, puffing out her chest in pride.

Sam let out a dramatic groan, slapping his forehead like he was in physical pain. "Lily, no! Alexander Graham Bell! How do you not know that?"

"Thomas Edison invented something," she huffed. "So technically, I'm not wrong."

Mrs. Blake laughed, her shoulders shaking as she covered her mouth. "She's got a point, Sam."

"She absolutely does not," Sam argued, crossing his arms.

I hid my grin behind my cider glass, watching the two of them bicker in a way that only siblings could. The ease between them was something I admired—something I was still getting used to.

Mrs. Blake flipped to the next question. "Alright, next one. What is the capital of Italy?"

Lily gasped as if she'd been personally called upon by fate. "Paris!"

Sam threw his hands in the air. "Lily, that's FRANCE."

She shrugged. "Same difference."

"No, it's not," Sam grumbled under his breath, while I nearly choked on my cider from laughing too hard.

We played round after round, Lily's wildly inaccurate guesses keeping everyone entertained. Even Sam—who normally took games very seriously—eventually gave up trying to correct her and just played along.

As the night went on, the laughter came easily, and the weight that usually sat heavy on my chest felt a little lighter. For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Eventually, the clock crept closer to midnight, and Mrs. Blake turned on the New Year's Eve countdown on the small TV in the corner of the room. The screen flickered with images of Times Square, crowds of people bundled up in scarves and hats as they waited for the ball to drop. The distant cheers of the televised crowd blended with our quiet excitement in the living room.

Lily, now sleepy but determined, curled up beside me on the couch, her head resting against my arm. "I'm gonna make it," she mumbled. "I'm not gonna fall asleep before midnight."

I highly doubted that, but I just smiled. "I believe in you."

Sam, trying to act like he wasn't just as exhausted, sat back with his arms crossed, his eyes occasionally drooping. "It's just a new year," he muttered, though I could tell he was still excited.

"New year, fresh start," Mrs. Blake said softly, her eyes twinkling as she looked at all of us.

I thought about that for a moment.

A fresh start.

It wasn't just words to me.

It was a promise.

The numbers on the screen ticked down, and Lily perked up, suddenly wide awake with excitement. "IT'S ALMOST TIME!"

10... 9... 8...

I felt my heart race as everyone sat up a little straighter, the anticipation building.

7... 6... 5...

Mrs. Blake reached for my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

4... 3... 2... 1...

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Lily squealed with excitement, and Sam let out a whoop, raising his glass of cider like he'd just won a championship. Mrs. Blake pulled all of us into a tight hug, the warmth of her arms wrapping around me like a safety net.

I closed my eyes for just a second, letting the moment sink in.

This wasn't like past New Year's Eves, where I had sat alone, wondering what the next year would bring. This time, I wasn't alone.

I had a home. I had people who cared.

And, I had hope.