[INT. KITCHEN – DAY]
The girl, LENA (17), walks into the kitchen where her mom’s new husband, DAVID (mid-40s), is making coffee. There’s a slightly awkward pause before she speaks.
LENA:
Hey.
DAVID:
Hey, Lena. Want some coffee? Or… you drink that iced oat thing, right?
LENA:
(Lightly) Yeah. Iced oat thing. You actually remembered?
DAVID:
Trying to. Figured it’s the little stuff that counts.
Lena nods, grabs a banana from the counter, peels it slowly.
LENA:
So, uh… how’s it going? Settling in okay?
DAVID:
Trying not to touch anything labeled “Mom’s stuff” and avoiding your cat like he’s got a grudge against me.
LENA:
(Smiling a little) He probably does. He liked the last guy.
David looks at her—understanding the unspoken tension.
DAVID:
Look, I’m not trying to replace anyone. I just want things to feel… less weird. For both of us.
LENA:
I don’t hate you, you know. I just… didn’t expect this.
DAVID:
Neither did I. But I like being here. And I really care about your mom. And I’m hoping—eventually—you’ll let me earn a little space too.
LENA:
You’re doing fine… even if your coffee tastes like motor oil.
They both smile. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.
