Taken, Still Mine

Leah sat in the front seat, her fingers tapping a restless rhythm on her jeans as her mom navigated the unfamiliar streets. A thick cocktail of excitement and anxiety churned in her chest. Their new home. Her own room. A different neighborhood. Would the neighbors be friendly? Or just plain weird?

Beside her, her mom swayed gently to an old-school tune playing on the radio, her humming soft and nostalgic.

"Fresh start, huh?" her mom said, sparing Leah a glance.

Leah nodded, lips pressed together as she stared out the window. She wanted to say something-anything-but before she could, a sudden bang jolted her forward.

Her brother's foot had slammed into the back of her seat.

"Seriously?" Leah snapped, twisting around to glare at him.

"My bad," he muttered without looking up, his eyes glued to his phone screen.

"Both of you, relax," their mom sighed. "We're almost there."

Almost there. Almost at a new chapter in their lives.

Moments later, the car rolled to a smooth stop in front of a cream-painted two-story house, its neatly trimmed lawn glowing in the afternoon sun. Behind them, two moving trucks hummed into the driveway, filled with every piece of their old life in battered cardboard boxes. Leah stepped out of the car and stretched her legs, glancing around the compound. It was big-bigger than she expected. Plenty of open space, trimmed hedges, and even a mango tree leaning slightly to one side.

Different. But maybe a good kind of different.

Her mom was already giving instructions at the movers, pointing urgently at boxes. "Careful with that!" she called out, watching nervously as one of them handled a box marked FRAGILE like it weighed nothing.

Leah sighed and went around to the trunk, pulling out a small duffel bag. She wasn't ready for the chaos of unpacking, of making the strange familiar again. But before she could sulk for too long, laughter echoed across the compound.

Two little girls dashed past her, giggling as they played tag, their sandals slapping against the concrete.

Leah smiled and waved. "Hi!"

They both paused mid-run, looking up at her with wide eyes. One of them grinned. "Hi, Auntie!" Then they were off again.

Leah blinked. Auntie? She was only twenty and had barely finished her final exams at university. Shaking her head with a chuckle, she shouldered her bag and stepped into the house.

The scent of fresh paint hit her immediately-sharp and clean. The walls were still a little bare, the furniture not yet placed, but it already felt like something new. Something waiting.

She walked slowly down the hallway, trailing her fingers against the cool wall. Each step echoed slightly. The house felt empty, but not in a bad way. Like it was waiting to be filled with memories.

Finally, she stopped in front of a closed door-her room.

Her hand hesitated on the knob. It felt surreal, having her own space for the first time. No more sharing, no more borrowed quiet. This room was hers.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

It was cozy, with smooth cream walls and a small window that let in the late afternoon sun. As she stepped in, she noticed something curious: the light switch had three settings. She flicked through them-white, red, green.

The green glow warmed the room in a strange, calming way. Leah smiled.

Perfect.

A loud, familiar voice drifted in from the living room.

"Hey, Miss Young!"

Leah froze. Her heart skipped. That voice.

Her mom's excited response followed. "Ava! Sweetheart!"

Leah's eyes widened as she bolted to the doorway. "Ava?!" she called, already grinning.

Ava was the one person Leah had been dying to see. They had met years ago through a mutual friend, and despite their differences, they just clicked. Smart, loud, and full of drama, Ava was impossible to ignore.

And now, they were neighbors - she lived upstairs.

Leah barely had time to process it before a thud shook the hallway.

The door to her room swung open violently, nearly hitting the wall, and Ava stumbled in, looking like she'd been through war.

"Leah!" she groaned, dropping her bag with a thud and collapsing face-first onto the bed.

Leah blinked. "What in the world-?"

Ava turned just enough to glare at her. "Don't. Ask. That exam? Murder."

Leah stifled a laugh. "That bad?"

"Worse!" Ava flipped over, arms flailing dramatically. "Prepared for five essay questions, right? Only for the devil-I mean, the lecturer-to bring a hundred multiple-choice questions from nowhere. My brain's still twitching. And the time? Insane. I blacked out at question 64."

Leah snorted. "Sounds like you're overreacting. Just a bit."

Ava gasped. "Excuse me?! This is academic trauma. Respect it!"

They both burst into laughter, the kind that loosened all the tension Leah hadn't realized she was carrying.

Eventually, the laughter died down and Leah glanced at the mess on the chair-a mountain of clothes she'd started folding but abandoned halfway.

She looked pointedly at Ava. "Since you're here, you might as well help."

Ava groaned. "I just survived an academic ambush. Now you want me to fold clothes?"

Leah raised an eyebrow. "You're lying on my bed. Help, or sleep on the floor."

"You're evil," Ava muttered, grabbing a shirt.

"And you're dramatic. Now, fold."

Grumbling under her breath, Ava obeyed. In between jokes and teasing, they got through the pile quickly. The room started to look lived-in-comfortable.

Leah stretched, satisfied. "Much better."

Ava flopped back on the bed. "Well, since I worked so hard, I'm spending the night. No arguments."

Leah rolled her eyes. "You never ask permission anyway."

With the lights off and the green hue now dimmed, the room grew quiet. They lay in silence, breathing steady, the buzz of a long day fading into calm.

Then Ava whispered, "Leah?"

"Hmm?"

"If I fail that exam, you better cry at my funeral."

Leah burst into giggles. "Oh, please. You're not going anywhere."

"I'm serious. I want tears. Actual tears. And a speech. Something poetic."

"Go to sleep, Ava."

Ava sighed. "Fine. But just know, if I haunt you, it's your fault."

Leah smiled into the dark, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

The day had started with unease. A strange neighborhood, boxes everywhere, and questions about whether she'd ever feel at home. But here, in the soft darkness of her room, with her best friend snoring lightly beside her, things didn't feel so scary anymore.

She wasn't facing this new beginning alone. And maybe-just maybe-it would turn out better than she'd ever expected.

Leah closed her eyes, letting the soft rhythm of Ava's breathing lull her into sleep.

Tomorrow would come with its own mess. But tonight, peace.