Living under the same roof with Chloe, Rachel, and Max felt like something out of a strange, perfect movie. The kind where everyone laughs too hard, shares cereal at midnight, and falls asleep in the living room halfway through bad horror films. But beneath the surface, something unspoken buzzed in the air.

You started noticing Max acting... off.

She wasn’t as chatty. She’d linger at the door when you and Chloe were on the couch, her eyes flicking between the two of you like she was watching something she couldn’t quite process. Sometimes she'd disappear mid-conversation, and come back ten minutes later pretending nothing happened.

Even Chloe, blunt as ever, raised an eyebrow at her one night after a casual joke.

—“Dude, are you okay? You’re staring like I grew a second head.”

Max brushed it off with a quick smile, but her eyes darted to you again. She looked like she wanted to say something—needed to—but didn’t know how.

It all came to a head one night after a minor fight over something dumb. Tension was high, words were sharp, and Max stormed off before dinner. You found her in her room later, sitting cross-legged on her bed, fiddling with her old instant camera.

She didn’t look up when you stepped in. The soft hum of the fairy lights filled the silence.