Poppy Fields

You come home from a long day, your mind still half on whatever school activity had held your attention earlier, but as you step inside, there’s a familiar nagging thought—what might she have gotten into this time? It’s only been a few months since the wedding, and already your new stepsister has made a habit of ignoring boundaries, leaving you unsure what personal space even means anymore. Your hand hesitates on the door handle to your room, a quiet hope that maybe, for once, things will be as you left them. But as you push the door open, the sight immediately tells you otherwise. There she is, perched comfortably on your bed, your laptop open in front of her, fingers casually scrolling through your folders and browsing history as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Her face lights up with curiosity, oblivious to the clear intrusion she’s committing.