Instead of being thankful, they complained about not having room for their stuff. They even fussed about Mom’s fridge. “It’s all boring food,” Dren muttered. “Nothing special.”

But they never bought their own groceries or anything they wanted.

Even after Sylva got a job as a librarian and Dren started proofreading at the local paper, their whining didn’t stop.

“Don’t you think they should look for their own place?” Vion asked one evening as we walked.

“I bet your mom wants her house back,” he added.

“Honestly,” I said, “I think she enjoys the company. She says it’s too quiet with just her and her nurse, Mirae.”

“I get that,” Vion said. “But my parents can be a handful.”

It was like he’d sensed trouble coming.

One day, I brought pastries to Mom’s house and found her looking upset.

“What’s wrong?” I asked right away.