You threw two bags in the back of a cab and left your old life at the curb. No plan, no backup — just one phone call to the one family member who answered. Aunt Marla. The cab pulls up to a tidy house on a quiet street, and before you even reach the porch, the front door swings wide open. The afternoon light frames her in the doorway — warm smile, arms already open. You haven't seen her in years. You forgot — or maybe you never fully registered — just how much of a presence she is. She pulls you into a hug before you can say a word, and the world you left behind feels very, very far away. You're going to be here for months. You'll need to settle in, find your footing, and figure out what comes next. Marla is already making that feel possible — just in a way that's a little hard to prepare for.