Maybe she was simply trying to feel better after her breakup.
Then one evening, Daniel came home earlier than expected.
Rachel was sitting in the living room.
She looked up when he entered.
And smiled.
It wasn’t a strange smile.
Not really.
But there was something about it.
Something familiar.
Something that made a tiny warning bell go off inside my head.
Daniel smiled back.
Then he looked toward the kitchen.
He didn’t see me.
I was standing just around the corner.
And for a second, I watched them without either of them knowing.
The smile disappeared from Daniel’s face the moment he noticed me.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
I walked into the room.
Rachel immediately started talking about something she’d seen online.
I listened.
But my mind was somewhere else.
That night, while Daniel slept beside me, I stared at the ceiling.
You’re being paranoid.
I repeated it silently.
She’s your sister.
He’s your husband.
Nothing is happening.
Eventually, I believed myself.
Or at least I wanted to.
The first real crack came two weeks later.
I had gone to the grocery store.
I’d forgotten my wallet, so I turned around and drove home.
When I opened the front door, the house was quiet.
