The smell of freshly cooked pasta slowly fills the kitchen and extends into my living room as I pull a dish out of the oven and scoop a generous heap onto my plate. I do a once-over of the kitchen, making sure the oven and stovetop were off and that the dishes were in the dishwasher, ready to be cleaned when I'm done eating. I grab a bottle of water from my fridge and make my way into the living room. With a plate of food in one hand and the TV remote in the other, I settle into the plush sofa and surf Netflix, trying to find something entertaining to watch with my meal.
It has been three months since I left my old pack—a decision I do not regret—and I had been lucky enough to find a house that the realtor described as a "mini-mansion" just inside neutral territory but hours away from
