Leaving her parents’ house wasn’t easy, even if the decision had been made in her head days ago.
Karyn stood in her room—her room, but not. The room belonged to a girl who wore dresses, had boxes of makeup stacked neatly on the vanity, and posters of musicians she didn’t recognize on the walls. That girl had grown up in this house, kissed her first boyfriend in the hallway, cried into her pillow during arguments with her mother, and written dreams in journals hidden in drawers.
But that girl wasn’t her. Not really.
Or maybe she was.
Karyn ran her fingers across the vanity, then caught sight of herself in the mirror. A good-looking eighteen-year-old girl stared back. She hated admitting it, even in her thoughts, but she couldn’t deny it—she looked good. The kind of good that turned heads. Long red hair, smooth pale skin, a body that was soft in the right places and slim in the rest.
God, stop thinking about your own ass, she scolded herself, cheeks coloring as though someone could hear her thoughts.
The truth was, she wasn’t Jon anymore. Every day she felt it more. Jon had been awkward, a little geeky, never sure of where he fit. Karyn was different. People looked at her differently, treated her differently. The way boys’ eyes lingered—sometimes obvious, sometimes subtle—made her squirm. Even Mikey, in one of his teasing texts, had told her:
“You’re a good-looking girl now, Karyn. Be careful out there. Don’t want you breaking hearts.”
She didn’t know whether he was joking or not. He was thirteen, her brother-in-law technically, but he was also the only real friend she had right now. Every evening, he came by with homework for her to help him with, plopping books on her bed and grinning.
“At least you kept your brain sharp,” he’d say, pushing a worksheet toward her. “No excuses now, how do a do this A... B thing with math?.”
They’d laugh, trade dumb jokes, and talk until late. She hated to admit it, but those evenings with him were the only times she felt… normal.
Still, she knew she couldn’t stay in her parents’ house forever.
Her mom and dad were loving, more than she could’ve asked for, but she was eighteen now. An adult. And adults were supposed to start lives of their own. Besides, she had the means to. Jon’s life insurance—forty million dollars. She had nearly cried when she first learned the number. No one had expected a healthy sixteen-year-old to die. The policy had been meant for a cruel accident of fate that should never have happened.
But here she was, alive, and rich.
The house she found sat on a hill overlooking the sea, about an hour’s train ride from her parents’ town. It was big, too big really: two stories, four bedrooms, wide windows that drank in the view of the coastline. A sprawling garden, a porch that faced the waves, and even space for a swing or hammock.
The previous owners had cried when she signed the papers. “We’ve been trying to sell for years,” they admitted. “No one wanted to pay this much for a house in such a quiet town.”
Karyn had smiled awkwardly, trying not to mention she’d paid in full without blinking.
When the keys hit her palm, something inside her shifted. A mix of fear and freedom.
She told Mikey first, over text.
Karyn: “Guess what? I bought a house. Moving this weekend.”
Mikey: “No way. You’re serious? On your own?”
Karyn: “Yeah. Parents are freaking out but they’ll deal.”
Mikey: “Ok don’t laugh but… can I move in too?”
She’d stared at the screen for a long time, sure he was joking.
But then he texted again:
“I mean it. Mom and Dad… they’re different now. They don’t look at me the same. Like I remind them of Jon, but not enough to actually be him. They’re happier when I’m not around. So yeah. I’d love to live with you. Be like brother and sister.”
Her chest ached reading that. She knew his house wasn’t warm anymore. Jons’s mom especially—when Karyn had tried to visit, the woman’s eyes had been cold, bitter, carrying too much grief.
No wonder Mikey wanted out.
She wrote back:
Karyn: “If your parents are okay with it, then… yes. Of course.”
And they were. Surprisingly, shockingly, his parents agreed, signing guardianship papers to transfer him to Karyn. Almost like they were relieved.
The weekend came fast.
Boxes stacked high. Beds stripped down to mattresses. No couch yet, no chairs, just echoes bouncing off bare walls and the sound of the ocean outside.
Karyn stood in the middle of her new living room, hair tied back, sweat on her forehead, and laughed. “I officially own way too much space for one person.”
Mikey lugged in a box half his size, dropping it with a grunt. “Not one person anymore. Two.”
“True,” she said, smiling.
He smirked. “Also, you should know—I’m totally claiming the room with the best view.”
“Excuse me? I paid for this house!”
“Yeah, but I’m younger. Pity points.”
They bickered good-naturedly, their voices filling the house with a warmth it had lacked.
By evening, they were sitting cross-legged on mattresses, eating takeout straight from cartons. The place was still bare, but it already felt like home.
Later, Mikey disappeared upstairs and came back holding a small box. His expression was unreadable.
“I, uh… I got some of Jon’s stuff,” he said. His voice softened on the name. “Mom didn’t want to keep it around, so I took some things. Keepsakes. Stuff to remember him by.”
Karyn’s heart skipped.
Mikey held the box out to her. “There’s one thing in here, though… I always thought it was weird. You and Jon only had it right near the end, before the accident. I don’t know why, but it felt important. Maybe it’ll mean something to you.”
Karyn’s hands trembled as she reached for the box.
But as she opened it she saw...
