Sarah's mother always said grace before dinner, even when Sarah stopped bowing her head. Her father always asked about her grades, even when she'd long graduated. Her brother always made the same jokes about her being single, even when they stopped being funny years ago.

That Thursday evening, like every Thursday for the past decade, she sat at Luna's cramped kitchen table instead of her family's formal dining room. Luna handed her a steaming mug of chai, made exactly how Sarah liked it—more cardamom, less sugar.

"Rough day?" Luna asked, noticing Sarah's wrinkled blazer and untamed hair.

"Mom called again. Asked when I'm going to 'settle down' and 'give her grandchildren.'" Sarah wrapped her hands around the warm mug. "Said I'm wasting my life running an art gallery."

"Ah yes, how dare you follow your passion and become successful?" Luna rolled her eyes, pulling out leftover lasagna from her fridge—Sarah's comfort food. "Remember when we met at that terrible corporate job?"

Sarah smiled. Five years of friendship had started with shared eye-rolls during mind-numbing meetings. They'd quit on the same day, Sarah to open her gallery, Luna to start her catering business.

"Speaking of the gallery," Luna said, "did you get that installation sorted?"

"Yeah, thanks to Marcus. He stayed until 3 AM helping me hang everything perfectly." Sarah thought of Marcus, their friend who'd wandered into the gallery two years ago and never really left. He now handled their social media, though nobody had actually hired him.

As if summoned by his name, Marcus burst through the door, his arms full of grocery bags. "Ladies, I bring offerings of wine and chocolate! Also, Wei texted. Movie night's at their place this weekend."

Sarah watched Luna and Marcus bicker over the proper way to reheat lasagna, thinking of Wei and their partner Alex, who'd complete their little circle on Sunday. None of them shared blood, yet here they were—her chosen family, built piece by piece over coffee meets and late nights and shared dreams.

Her phone buzzed: another text from her mother. Sarah silenced it, smiling. She'd call back tomorrow, but tonight was for her real family.