The doorbell rang once—short and cheerful—followed by a rhythmic knock that could only belong to one dramatic human being.
Aunt Martha opened the door, her hands still dusted with flour, and gasped.
"Ethan!" she said, eyes wide behind her round glasses. Her mouth dropped open, then curled into the warmest smile. "You cheeky boy—why didn't you tell me you were coming back today?"
Standing there on the porch, suitcase in one hand, sunglasses still on at six in the evening, hoodie half-zipped and hair looking like he just escaped from a boyband music video, Ethan grinned with open arms. "Surprise, Aunt Martha! Guess who dodged airport paparazzi like a ninja and survived expired water just to see you!"
She laughed, stepping forward to pull him into a big, loving hug. "You're still skinny, your face looks pale, and I swear you've gotten taller."
