I was hoping for an inconspicuous return home.

Unfortunately, just seconds after the front door clicked into place behind me, I realised it was going to be the opposite.

My parents were in the living room, but their conversation stopped abruptly as soon as they heard my footsteps. For the second time that day, I found myself cursing the boots I'd worn; their heels seemed good for little more than stomping around in anger. I fully intended to throw them in the back of my wardrobe once this was all over.

I wanted nothing more than to retreat to my bedroom and slam the door, but the air of anticipation through the house made it clear that was not about to happen. Though it went against every instinct in my body, I dropped my bag with a thud on the marble, and headed in the direction of the living room door.

"Astrid!"

Mum and Dad were perched on separate sofas in what was far from a natural setup. I hadn't seen them here together for several years – not since both of their workloads had intensified enough to keep them permanently out of the living room. Both of them were more likely to be shut up in their respective studies than waiting to greet me.

Still, today was not just another Tuesday afternoon. Only one thing was enough to drag them away from their work – unfortunately, this also happened to be the last thing I wanted to tell them.

"Hey," I said, fighting to keep my voice level.

But, as far as they were concerned, introductions were just time-wasters. I should've known. "Well," my mum said, looking ready to start jumping up and down in anticipation, "how was it?"

"How was what?"

My dad gave me an impatient look. In the bright light filtering through the patio doors, I noticed how much his hair had greyed. The dining room lighting was considerably more forgiving, and the frosted roots against dark colour seemed to age him well beyond his years. "What do you think? The interview, obviously."

"Oh." My hands moved to undo the buttons of my coat, but it was just another stalling move, and I had a feeling they could both tell. "It, uh... it was okay."

"Just okay?" Even this had Mum looking disappointed, which made the truth that more unappealing to spill. She was hoping for buckets of optimism, a thriller of a tale where I hit back every question perfectly. What I had to offer hardly lived up to standards. "You don't think you got in?"

"I don't know," I said. It was an easier answer than the truth: not a chance in hell.

"What did he ask?" she pressed. "Did he go over your applicant essay? We went over that dozens of times, that must've at least impressed him a little—"

"It wasn't Mr Cardiner."

My interjection had her frowning, pulling her arched brows closer together. "What? Was he out sick, or something? I didn't hear that anybody else was doing interviews—"

"I had Dr Nielsen."

If the name had yielded a blank look, it might've been a little more reassuring. But the expression that dawned across Mum's features epitomised everything I didn't want to see.

"Oh," she said. "That's unfortunate."

I should've taken a seat by now, but I couldn't bring myself to move from the door; it felt like a quick exit had to be an option at all times. "Why?" I asked, a little warily. "Do you know her?"

"We've... met."

Even Dad was looking confused now, and it was his look that seemed to prompt her to continue. "She was new back at the start of the year," she explained. "I'm not entirely sure why she took a job at the university, given the... type of students they tend to accept. Let's just say she's incredibly sceptical of BioPlus."

The news did nothing to reassure me; instead, my heart went plummeting to the pit of my stomach with nauseating speed. "Oh, that's great, isn't it?" I said loudly. "The most important interview of my life, and I had to get stuck with the woman who hated me before we even met."

"Astrid, don't be overdramatic," my father said. "You couldn't have been more prepared for today. Having them switch your interviewer at the last minute may have been unfortunate, but it's not reason enough to withhold your place."

I knew it was meant to be comforting, but I couldn't find that between the words. Neither of them had been there. They hadn't witnessed the pure loathing with which Dr Nielsen had looked at me, or the way she'd seemed to revel in my poor answers. And then there was how I'd pretty much gone off on an angry tangent after being asked about Nova's ring... whatever Dad said, I had a feeling that might be enough to withhold an acceptance.

If she was anti-modification, why was she even working at UNL? There was no way they'd be the top university in the world if the vast majority of their students hadn't had a genetic helping hand. Or maybe she hadn't known. She was no doubt now bound by countless legal agreements that stopped her saying too much. If UNL excelled at anything, it was keeping secrets.

"I'm not being overdramatic," I said, folding my arms. "You weren't there. I'm just trying to prepare you for what might happen when the results come out, okay?"

They looked at each other, but their heads were angled just enough to cut me out of the exchange. And this was my final straw. "You know what? I don't want to talk about it. I'm going upstairs."

But I didn't make it two steps in the other direction before their voices drew me back. "Astrid," Mum said. "You're not going anywhere. We need to discuss this."

"No, we don't. It's over now."

I went to move again, but they were nothing if not persistent. "Astrid."

"For God's sake!" I yelled, spinning fast enough for my voice to slice the space between them. The effort of keeping my tone in check was getting harder by the minute. "I said I don't want to talk about it! I've had the day from hell that may have just screwed up my entire future, so please don't make me relive it!"

The outburst drew in enough air to silence the room, but thinking it would last was wildly optimistic. "Astrid," Mum said again. "We just want to know what happened."

"What part of this are you not getting? Can't you just leave me alone and talk behind my back like normal parents?"

"We just think you might be overreacting," Dad said, like this was supposed to make me feel better. "You've been under a lot of pressure. There's no need to get worked up about it before you even know the outcome."

I wasn't sure why I was struggling to stay calm. I didn't have the longest fuse known to man, but holding myself together wasn't usually like this. Maybe it was the pressure, which seemed to have cornered me into a space so small one spark could take it up in flames. "Why are you doing this?" I snapped. "Why don't I get to brush these questions off like you do? I'm expected to spill every detail of my life when it suits you two, but the minute I want to ask anything about Nova, you shut me out before I've finished my sentence!"

The single word was all it took to prove me right. In the space of a second, the invisible wall between us snapped into place, exactly as I expected. My parents' expressions were replaced by masks, expertly concealing whatever lay underneath.

Of that, I still wasn't sure.

"That's not the same thing," my mother said eventually.

"Isn't it?" My accusatory gaze flickered between them, a wordless challenge. "Sure doesn't seem any different to me."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh! I wonder why?" I shrieked, the inflection bordering on hysterical. "Maybe because you refuse to speak to me when I so much as mention my sister's name? Or have you already forgotten she exists? It's only been two years – that's got to be some record timing."

"Astrid," my father said, and even I could hear the warning behind it.

In any other situation, this would've been the cue to stop, the drawing of the invisible line that kept all of us in our places. But I was already boiling over, and I wasn't sure I would've been able to resist with a knife to my throat. "Oh, have I touched a nerve? Maybe I've reminded you of the daughter you seem to have forgotten."

"Astrid." Dad was out of his seat now. It was becoming much harder to meet his warning gaze, but I forced myself to hold it, like this was the ultimate test of persistence. "Stop this right now."

"Where's Nova?"

"We are not talking about this."

"Why not? It's not going to be any other time, is it? Might as well get it over with now."

Both of them were staring at me, with the type of detached look that was harder to stomach than anger. I hadn't just crossed the line; I'd skyrocketed right across it, far enough into the distance to rid it from my line of vision. We may have been standing in the middle of the living room, but it was obvious that the three of us were broaching vastly new territory.

"Why is this so hard for you?" I kept on. "Just tell me what you know. That's all I want."

"It's nothing to do with you," my mum said, sounding like she might be on the verge of tears.

"Nothing to do with me?" I echoed incredulously. "Nothing to do with me? In case it might have escaped your notice, she's my sister!"

My words were met with nothing but silence, and this was more frustrating than anything else. I couldn't take my eyes off the two of them. Seeing them there, with the type of glazed look that seemed to project total indifference, I wasn't sure I could hold myself back much longer.

A photograph was standing on the coffee table, one of a pair in matching glass frames. It sat beside a snapshot from years ago: my mother and father on the steps of City Hall, showered in confetti on the happiest day of their lives. This one was more recent, dating only about five years beforehand: all four of us had been at the black-tie annual party for my dad's company, and the event photographer wouldn't let us escape without posing for a picture. Come to think of it, it was one of the few photos we had that included our family in one piece.

It was also one of the few photographs of Nova still around the house; over the last two years, more and more frames had come down, like the place was slowly reclaiming the empty shell we'd first moved into. In this one, like every other, all eyes were immediately drawn to her. It was hard to overlook the waterfall of vibrant red hair, falling over her shoulder as a stark contrast to pale, freckly skin. On paper, her smile was as two-dimensional as the rest of ours, and yet it seemed like she could reach right out of the frame and grab anybody's attention.

Kind of like the real Nova.

I wasn't sure what made me pick up the photograph, turning the frame over in my hand. With the anger clouding my head, I couldn't quite determine where I ended and it began.

"Do you even remember this?" I asked, holding the photo high enough for them to see. "Are you making any attempt to get her back?"

"You know it's not that simple," my mother said quietly.

"That's the problem," I told her. "I don't know. I don't know anything, and it seems like you don't want to make any effort to change that."

My dad shook his head, but the scathing expression etched into his features had only buried deeper. "We have our reasons, Astrid."

"Do you?" I challenged. "Do you really? I've heard a lot about these famous reasons, but it seems increasing like that's just a line to keep me out."

"Shut up!" he shouted, the sudden outburst making me jump. "You have no right to say any of this! You don't know what's going on, and acting so immature is just giving us more reason not to answer to your ridiculous demands!"

The words cut through me like a knife; it seemed a wonder that I hadn't already split clean in half. The anger had boiled over now, turning into something much more powerful – all of sudden, the expression seeing red didn't seem quite so metaphorical. Everything in my vision had become clouded with a strange tinge, one that I knew was there, and yet couldn't quite put my finger on.

I didn't know what came over me. In fact, I wasn't even sure it was me that looked down at the photograph I was holding, realising what I was about to do. My arm drew back before I realised, and the next thing I knew, a shattering across the room had turned into fragments of glass raining on the carpet.

Two seconds into the resounding silence, it occurred to me what I'd done.

This was what propelled me to spin on the spot, pounding into the hallway and up the stairs like the floor was on fire beneath me.

The slam of my bedroom door wasn't enough to drown out the roaring in my ears. My breathing came thick and fast, like no amount of work could draw enough air into my lungs. In fact, I wasn't sure there was enough air in the entire house to calm me down. Every muscle in my body ached with anger, a physical reaction to something that definitely shouldn't have transcended my brain.

It had never happened like this before. There was hot-headedness, sure, and then there was shattering glass on the opposite wall.

The nausea arrived so quickly it pushed its way up my throat. I barely had time to stumble to the ensuite bathroom before I was retching into the toilet, but I couldn't manage to bring anything up. The forced contraction of my muscles did little more than squeeze the last of the air out of me. When it finally subsided, my legs were shaking so hard they could barely support me, and I had to steady myself on the edge of the sink.

My reflection stared back at me from the mirror. Taking a deep breath, I reached a hand up to my sweaty face, pushing a strand of hair away from my forehead.

And then I saw it.

For a moment, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. Surely anything had to be possible when I'd lost control so suddenly – I was hardly thinking straight. But as I leaned into the mirror, moving close enough to see my breath forming mist on the cold surface, my worst fear was confirmed.

My eyes were blue; they always had been. The bold colour was usually the first thing people noticed about me, and this was exactly the type of reaction my parents had been going for in the first place.

Except, all of a sudden, the blue was gone.

I was staring into blazing green, the colour of a freshly polished emerald. A colour that definitely didn't belong to me.

I shot back from the mirror as if electrified, stumbling backward across the bathroom on unsteady feet. My heart was pounding what felt like a thousand times a minute, so insistently it seemed to be pushing right against my chest. I could feel it through every inch of my body.

As my back hit the wall, and I still couldn't manage to tear my gaze away from the distant reflection, only one panicked thought found the strength to run across my mind.

Oh, my God. This is happening again.

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Hi, everyone! Here I am with another new chapter. I'm back at university now, so my writing time is about to go right back down again, which kind of sucks. HOWEVER, I'm going to try to commit to weekly uploads, which will be posted on Fridays (starting today, obviously). I really hope I can stick to it!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Things are about to get a whole lot more complicated now Astrid's side effects are beginning to appear...