Dysfunctional Dynamics

The house looked the same, but something had shifted.

Sabrina couldn't name it exactly—only feel it. Like the foundation was bending, just slightly, waiting for a snap.

Keith's behavior had changed.

It was subtle at first. More compliments. Lingering glances. He started "accidentally" brushing past her when she reached for a dish towel. One night, he handed her a glass of wine she hadn't asked for.

"I know your type," he said, eyes tracing her face. "You're independent, you're drawn to order. You need a leader to protect you. You just don't know it yet."

Sabrina stiffened. "I think I'm drawn to boundaries."

Keith chuckled. "You'll find there's not much difference. Boundaries just show you where the real power lives."

She left the wine untouched.

The next morning was payday. Sabrina didn't even ask—just waited at the counter like she had every Friday.

Keith came in wearing his usual smug calm. "Funny thing," he said. "I can't find my wallet."

Tonya appeared from the hallway, hair curled, makeup on, wearing a top similar to one Sabrina had seen hanging in her own closet. Slightly tighter. Not quite right.

"I'll help you look," Tonya offered quickly, but Keith waved her off.

"No, Sabrina can handle it. She knows the house better by now."

And just like that, Sabrina spent 45 minutes tearing through couch cushions, drawers, bathroom cabinets—even under the kids' beds.

She found nothing. Because there was nothing to find.

Keith returned an hour later, patting his back pocket. "Well, look at that. Always the last place you check."

He handed her the envelope without blinking. "You've got to stay sharp. It's easy to get distracted in a place like this."

Sabrina said nothing. She took the envelope. But her hands were shaking.

Tonya stood behind him, her smile thin. Her blouse clung in all the wrong places. Sabrina caught her looking in the mirror that night—pulling at the fabric, tilting her head, as if trying to see herself through someone else's filter.

Sabrina didn't say anything then, either.

She just went to her room, closed the door, and pulled out a notebook.

The first entry read:

    Day 18
Keith lied about his wallet. Gave me a scavenger hunt. Watched the whole time.
Tonya is trying to imitate me. Not sure if it's for him, or to erase me.
Kids cling more every day.
Something's going to break.
I just don't know who it'll be first.