
Game night looks like a postcard—snacks in bowls, socks on feet, everybody laughing while dice rattle across the table. Jessica pops up to grab the door, still grinning from David’s bad joke, and opens it to a face that could’ve stepped straight out of her old yearbook. The smirk on the stranger’s lips says “surprise,” and for one hot second Jessica’s smile cracks like cheap plastic. Shay leans in, perfume and old grudges riding the same draft, while Rod keeps rolling sixes behind them, clueless that the woman at the threshold might just wipe the board clean. David and Amy are still arguing about house rules; Jessica’s throat has gone tight, because the ghost in front of her knows every lie that bought this happy scene and seems ready to collect on the debt with interest.
Game night looks like a postcard—snacks in bowls, socks on feet, everybody laughing while dice rattle across the table. Jessica pops up to grab the door, still grinning from David’s bad joke, and opens it to a face that could’ve stepped straight out of her old yearbook. The smirk on the stranger’s lips says “surprise,” and for one hot second Jessica’s smile cracks like cheap plastic. Shay leans in, perfume and old grudges riding the same draft, while Rod keeps rolling sixes behind them, clueless that the woman at the threshold might just wipe the board clean. David and Amy are still arguing about house rules; Jessica’s throat has gone tight, because the ghost in front of her knows every lie that bought this happy scene and seems ready to collect on the debt with interest.