The smell of sugar and butter often followed Stephanie around, like a piece of home she carried with her. One afternoon, while her mom and aunt chatted in the kitchen, she and her cousin Chloé flipped through recipe books at the dining table, whispering about which desserts they should try next.

That’s when her mom returned with news: “Chloé will be staying with us.”

Stephanie’s face lit up instantly. She grabbed Chloé’s hand, squeezing it tight. From that moment, she wasn’t just her cousin — she was her closest friend.

A week later, the two of them found a tall tree by a creek and decided to build their own treehouse. They hammered nails, dragged planks, and laughed at their mistakes. But the boards wouldn’t stay, the walls leaned, and soon their dream of a hideout collapsed before it was finished.

They left it behind.

Until one day, a boy appeared — someone who looked at the broken boards differently. Someone who saw not what it was, but what it could be.

And from then on, the three of them clicked.