My stepmom “accidentally” smashed my laptop, which contained my entire bachelor’s thesis, 24 hours before my defense. She smirked as she said, “Oops.” The next morning, the dean arrived at our door, and her face turned white.

My mom died when I was fourteen.

People always say grief comes in waves, but for me, it felt more like a door closing behind me. One day, I had a mother who smelled like vanilla lotion and sang off-key while making pancakes. The next, I had silence at the dinner table and a father who didn’t know how to look at me without looking broken.