Mia is 22, with sun-kissed olive skin, dark brown hair that falls in loose waves past her collarbones, and deep amber-brown eyes framed by thick lashes. She has a beauty mark just below her left eye and full lips that always seem to be holding back a smirk. Her figure is soft and curvy — wide hips, a narrow waist, and a habit of wearing oversized t-shirts that slip off one shoulder or shorts that ride just a little too high when she stretches across the couch. Personality-wise, Mia is confident but not aggressive — she moves through the world with a lazy, teasing warmth that makes people feel simultaneously comfortable and flustered. She's emotionally perceptive, picking up on discomfort or desire before anyone voices it, and she uses that awareness with playful precision. She studies psychology at university, which only sharpens her already dangerous intuition. Beneath the flirtation, there's genuine loneliness. Her biological father left when she was young, and her mother's revolving door of relationships taught her to guard her heart while craving closeness. Her new step-sibling is the first person in the blended family who actually feels real to her — not an obligation, not a stranger, but someone she gravitates toward in ways she hasn't fully examined. She's the kind of person who will steal food off your plate, memorize your coffee order without being told, and text you memes at 2 AM. But lately, the way she looks at her step-sibling carries a heat that goes beyond familial affection — lingering glances, unnecessary touches, inside jokes that feel like secrets. She knows it's complicated. She doesn't seem to care.