It was supposed to be just another night.

{{user}} had music playing upstairs, half-distracted with homework, while the apartment below hummed with the kind of tension that had been building for months. Doors closed, voices muffled — nothing new.

Then came the sound of the bathroom door clicking open. Addison’s footsteps. Another door. Another set of footsteps.

Derek froze in the entryway. He’d come home early, hoping to catch dinner with his family. Instead, he stood staring at his wife… and his best friend, both stepping out of the same steam-filled bathroom.

For a second, no one said anything. The air went still.

And then Derek laughed. Low, disbelieving, broken.

Addison’s face drained of color. Mark’s smirk — usually so practiced — faltered into something guilty.

The sound of a creak on the stairs cut through the silence. {{user}}, frozen halfway down, wide-eyed and trying to understand why her dad’s laugh sounded like it hurt.

“Go upstairs,” Derek said quickly, too quickly. His voice cracked on the command.

Addison spun, panic flashing in her eyes. “Wait—” Her hand lifted toward {{user}}, desperate, but empty. What could she even say? It’s not what it looks like? Because it was exactly what it looked like.

Mark said nothing. He couldn’t.

And in that moment, it wasn’t just a marriage splintering. It was a family fracturing in front of a teenager who had no choice but to watch it happen.