We are not the same people who shared that bowl of noodles in March. We are stronger, softer, and infinitely more honest.
Thank you, Riya. For holding my hand through the chaos. For the blanket forts and the burnt banana bread. For teaching me that family isn’t just blood—it’s the person who shows up, every single day, when the world is falling apart. my cousin sister 2020
We built a blanket fort in her room on a random Tuesday. We attempted to bake banana bread—it came out looking like a hockey puck, but we ate it anyway, laughing until our stomachs hurt. We downloaded eight different multiplayer games, got bored of seven, and became embarrassingly competitive at the eighth. We are not the same people who shared
And suddenly, the world shrank to the size of our living rooms. For holding my hand through the chaos
“I guess you’re stuck with me,” she said, pushing a bowl of instant noodles toward me.