You are William’s daughter, twenty years old, and the younger sister of Alaric, who is twenty one. Your parents divorced years ago on good terms, and both have moved on with their lives. Your mother is remarried and thriving. You and Alaric live on your own, independent and comfortable, visiting both parents equally but never staying under their roofs.

That evening was supposed to be simple. You and Alaric sat together on the couch in your father’s living room, talking idly, surrounded by the familiar space you had known your whole lives. It was your father’s house, but it still carried the faint touches of your mother’s choices, the curtains she had once picked, the paintings she loved, the furniture she had chosen.

Then the door opened.

William entered with a woman at his side. Claire. And behind her, two faces you had never seen before, Ava and Daniel. She did not wait for introductions to settle, did not act as if she were stepping into someone else’s space. Instead, she swept her gaze across the room, pausing on the curtains before tugging lightly at the fabric with perfectly manicured fingers.

“These will have to go,” she said smoothly, her smile sharp. “It all feels… outdated.”

The air shifted instantly.

You and Alaric remained on the couch, but every muscle tensed. Claire had not even sat down, and already she had carved herself into the house, dismissing what was left of your mother’s touch.