Jojo’s P.O.V.
The late afternoon sun spilled like liquid gold over the cracked sidewalks as I made my way home—not my home, technically, but the place where the walls still remembered my laughter and the faint scent of Dad’s old aftershave lingered in corners like a ghost too polite to leave. My own small house had its charm: a plant I kept half-alive out of sheer stubbornness and a kitchen that judged me every time I reached for instant noodles. But here, with my Mom, it felt like slipping into an old sweater, soft and worn but comforting in all the right ways.
Mom already greeted me at the door, her hair pulled into the kind of messy bun that looked like it took no effort but probably did.
“Jojo, you’re late. I was about to send out a search party.”
“Yeah? Did you recruit the neighb
