Chapter 5: Welcome Home

Just as I was drowning in fear, the car stopped. The gravel crunched under the tires, and I wiped my face, hoping I didn’t look too much like a raccoon.

We’d arrived at a grand house on the edge of town. It looked like something out of an HGTV special: brick pillars, wide porch, two stories tall with a perfectly mowed lawn and a row of maples along the drive. A little too perfect, maybe, like a postcard of the American dream.

A crowd was waiting outside the front door. They huddled together on the porch, bundled in winter coats. Someone held a homemade welcome sign, the letters a little crooked, as if they’d made it in a hurry.

As my parents introduced them, I looked at each one: They went down the line, voices warm but hesitant. Each face was new, yet oddly familiar in some way. I tried to memorize names and faces, but my brain buzzed with nerves.

The stern eldest brother, the sharp-eyed second brother, the laid-back third brother, and the pale, delicate sister who’d just been discharged from the hospital. The eldest, Mark, looked like he could bench-press a truck. The second, Ryan, wore glasses and studied me with a kind of quiet intensity. The third, Jason, had a lazy smile, his hands shoved in his pockets. And then there was Emily, still a little pale, her cheeks pink from the cold.

At a glance—it was the standard cast of a switched-daughters story. It felt surreal, like I’d stumbled into a live-action version of one of those dramas my sister loved. I half-expected a film crew to jump out from behind the hedges.

I thought about all the misery in those books that was about to befall me. I braced myself for icy glares, whispered gossip, and cold shoulders. My chest tightened. I squeezed my suitcase handle, steeling myself for the worst.

And I wailed. Louder than ever. The tears came in great, shaking waves. My chest heaved. I couldn’t help it—everything just spilled out.

……

The whole family was stunned by my crying. You could hear a pin drop. I caught glimpses of surprise, even panic, flickering over their faces. Someone shuffled their feet, unsure whether to comfort me or just give me space.

Mom’s eyes reddened beside me. She put her arm around my shoulders, voice trembling. “Oh, honey, it’s okay. You’re safe now. You’re home.”

"Poor child, she must’ve suffered so much. Look how excited she is to finally come home."

She spoke softly, as if she thought I might shatter with one wrong word. Her hand was warm on my back.

Dad sighed. He tried to hide it, but I saw the concern in his eyes. He looked at me the way my old dad used to when I fell off my bike.

"She’s so skinny, like a little kitten. Have the kitchen make something extra nourishing for Abby tonight."

He spoke to the housekeeper, making a big show of concern, trying to reassure me—and maybe himself—that I would be taken care of.

Big brother still looked stern, but reached out to pat my head. His hand was gentle, rough from years of sports. “Welcome home, squirt,” he said, with a smile that softened the edges of his tough demeanor.

"Our little sister’s so happy to see us, that’s why she’s crying like this."

He gave me a playful wink, trying to lighten the mood, even if his voice sounded a little uncertain.

Second brother adjusted his glasses and quietly instructed the housekeeper: He spoke in a low voice, but I caught the words “allergies” and “special dinner.” He seemed the responsible type, always thinking ahead.

"Prepare a big welcome dinner for Abby. Oh, and make sure to check if she has any food allergies."

He shot me a quick smile, as if to let me know he was on my side.

Third brother couldn’t squeeze into the crowd, so he circled anxiously on the outside, shouting: He waved his arms, bouncing on his toes. “Abby! Welcome home!” His energy was contagious, and I couldn’t help but smile, just a little.

"Abby! Welcome home!"

His voice was loud enough to make the whole neighborhood turn and look. I was grateful for the levity.

My new sister sniffled. She twisted a tissue in her hands, her eyes shining. “Please don’t cry… I can’t handle it if you do. We’ll both end up sobbing, and then we’ll be a mess.”

"You… you stop crying, or I’ll start crying too, and then what are we going to do…"

We both laughed through our tears, the kind of laugh that makes your shoulders shake and your nose run.

……

Tears in my eyes, I took in everything before me. They stood there, awkward but kind, waiting for me to calm down. It wasn’t the monster’s lair I’d imagined at all.

Hmm. Is this really how it goes in switched-daughters stories?

Maybe, just maybe, things could turn out okay after all.