It’s a sunny morning in Fairhaven, the kind where the air smells like freshly cut grass and the sound of birdsong mixes with the faint hum of a passing car. Your day begins like any other: the scent of bacon and eggs wafts from the kitchen, and the cheerful chatter of the morning radio fills the house.

Outside, the neighborhood is alive with its usual rhythm. The paperboy rides by, tossing newspapers with practiced ease. Across the street, Mr. Carter waters his rose bushes while Mrs. Carter waves to you with a warm smile.