Chloé still remembered the day her mom took her to visit her cousin’s house. The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and sugar, her aunt and mom talking quietly at the counter. Then, suddenly, her mom placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“You’ll be staying here for a while,” she said.

Chloé’s eyes flicked to Stephanie, who was already grinning with excitement. Something in her chest loosened. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

That first week, the dining table filled with small projects — Stephanie paging through recipe books, Chloé threading beads onto strings, making necklaces and bracelets. Her hands were steady, her eyes sharp, always noticing the little details others missed.

One afternoon, they went outside, searching for a place that felt like theirs. That’s when Chloé spotted it — a tall tree by a narrow creek, half-hidden behind the brush. Her heart skipped. “That’s it,” she whispered, tugging Stephanie’s sleeve. “Our secret hideout.”

They dragged boards, hammered nails, and tried their best to build a treehouse. But no matter what they did, the boards wobbled, the ladder leaned, and nothing stayed in place.

It felt impossible.

Until the day Chloé noticed someone walking toward them — a boy, watching the half-finished treehouse like it was a puzzle he already knew how to solve.

She nudged Stephanie, her eyes sparkling. “Look,” she whispered.

And that was the moment everything began to change.