a part of. Sarah, Mark, and the twins. They laughed, they played in the garden, their voices drifting up to my window. I was a

. I was looking for old photo albums, searching for a time before h

om my literature class. We weren't close, just friendly acquaintances, but seeing her smiling face in

fe could have been, a sharp contrast to the cold,

ld house had a laundry chute, and sound traveled easily through the vents. It was

"I've always loved you. Everything I've done, it's all b

ied, his voice weak but

ys loved him. My entire marriage, our entire life together, was a lie built to ser

with the smell of old wood and forgotten memories, and I felt something inside me finally, irrevocably, break. The man who had tr

t was a video. My hands shook as I pressed play. It was a security recording from a

wn and kissed him, a long, tender kiss full of a love she had never once shown me. Then s

t day: "Thinking of you, darling. Can't wait for you to be home." The video was

text: "He was always the one. Yo

m a lavish party. Sarah's parents were there, clinking champagne glasses with Mark. Her father clapped Mark o

in on it. They had watched me, entertained me, welcomed me into their lives, all while knowing I w

us than I could have ever imagined. The grou