The following weeks were a blur of observation and growing tension. Every dinner felt like a performance, and every shared silence in the hallway felt like a challenge. Cathy found herself tracking Michael’s movements through the house, her ears tuned to the sound of his heavy footsteps or the low vibration of his voice when he was on the phone.
The summer heat had become oppressive, settling over the house like a thick blanket. Michael and Iris were often by the pool, their laughter drifting up to Cathy’s window. Sometimes she would watch them from behind the safety of her curtains. Michael would be lounging, his bronzed skin glistening with water, while Iris draped herself over him like a colorful silk scarf. Cathy felt a persistent, gnawing ache in her chest—a mix of displacement and a
