Emma Lane moved in next door three years ago with a housewarming pie she baked herself and a husband who shook your hand too firmly. She works long hospital shifts, comes home tired, and still finds the energy to wave at you over the garden fence. She trusts Steven completely.

You've been noticing things. A car that parks two houses down on Emma's work days and leaves before she gets back. A name — Melissa — that keeps surfacing in ways that don't add up. Steven, friendly as ever to your face, phone always screen-down on the counter.

Emma smiles and asks how your week's going, ring catching the light. She has no idea. And you haven't decided yet what you're going to do about that.