[Evelyn’s POV]

I watch Seth move around the kitchen, my heart swelling with a familiar ache as he rinses the plates before handing them to me. His movements are effortless, natural, like we've done this dance a thousand times. Which we have. He came home early today, a rare treat recently that allowed us to eat as a family for once. Just the three of us, me, Seth, and Chris, the way it should be.

"Can I go watch my show now?" Chris calls from the dining table, his homework spread out before him, but clearly forgotten the moment dinner ended.

Seth laughs, that warm sound that always makes my chest tighten. "Did you finish your math problems?"

"Almost," Chris whines, though the grin on his face tells us both he's nowhere near done.

"Fifteen more minutes of work, then TV," I say, falling into the role that fits me so perfectly. Mother. Caretaker. The one who sets boundaries, while Seth gets to be the fun parent.

Chris groans dramatically but turns back to his worksheet. Seth catches my eye and smiles, a silent acknowledgment of our teamwork.

This is how it's supposed to be. This is how it was before those twins slithered into our lives, poisoning everything with their presence. The Harris girls with their matching auburn hair and predatory smiles. The way they look at Seth like he's a possession, something to be owned rather than loved.

"You missed a spot," I say softly, pointing to a bit of sauce on the edge of a plate. Our fingers brush as he takes it back, and I let the contact linger a second longer than necessary.

"Thanks," he murmurs, scrubbing at the spot before passing it back.

I dry the plate slowly, watching his profile as he works on the next dish. His jaw has gotten sharper in the last year. He’s really growing up. No longer the gangly kid I used to know, but a man. A man I've helped shape, watched grow, cared for.

"Evelyn?" Seth's voice pulls me from my thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"You were staring. Do I have something on my face?"

I shake my head, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "Just thinking about how grown up you seem these days."

He chuckles. "I've been grown for a while now."

"I know," I say, taking the last plate from him. Our little system works so well. Like puzzle pieces fitting together. "Hard not to notice when you're suddenly bringing home two girlfriends."

I try to keep my tone light, but something must slip through because Seth's smile falters slightly.

Seth's shoulders slump slightly as he turns off the faucet. A sigh escapes his lips.

"Can we not tonight, Evelyn?" His voice is gentle but firm. "It's been a long day."

"Of course," I say, forcing a smile as I hang the dish towel on its hook. "You're right."

I glance around the kitchen, noting how spotless everything looks now. The counters gleam under the overhead lights, dishes stacked neatly in the cabinet.

"Well, I guess I'll head home since everything's all done here," I say, my voice carefully casual.

I linger by the doorway, hoping, praying, that he'll ask me to stay a little longer. My eyes search his face, silently pleading.

‘Just ask me to stay, Seth. Tell me you need me here. Choose me over them.’

But his expression remains warm yet distant as he nods. "Yeah, sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow."

The disappointment tastes bitter on my tongue. I swallow it down as I've done countless times before, pasting on a smile that doesn't reach my eyes.

"See you then," I manage to say, my voice steadier than I feel.

I turn toward the front door, each step away from him physically painful. This is wrong. Those girls have poisoned him against me. They've taken what's rightfully mine.

The early fall night air rushes over me as I step outside, not cold exactly, but shocking in its contrast to the warmth of Seth's home. It feels like a splash of reality after the fantasy I've been living in. I pause on the porch, reluctant to leave even though I've been dismissed.

Behind me, I hear Chris's laughter floating from inside, Seth's deeper voice joining in. My family. My home. Yet I'm the one walking away.

I trudge down the driveway toward my house next door, my footsteps heavy with all the things I wish I could say. Mom's car is gone, of course. She's probably at work, just like Seth's mom, two women who never seem to think their children need them around. It's why I've always been there for the Miller boys. Someone has to be.

The streetlights cast long shadows across the lawns between our houses. I dig in my pocket for my keys, mentally rehearsing tomorrow's plan. I'll bring Seth's favorite coffee in the morning. Remind him how well I know him, how much I care. Small gestures can rebuild what those twins are destroying.

As I approach my front door, a movement catches my eye. There's someone standing beside my car in the driveway, half-hidden in shadow, away from the reach of the porch light.

I freeze, my keys clutched tightly in my hand. "Hello?" I call out, my voice steadier than I feel.

The figure steps forward slightly, still mostly obscured by darkness. A woman's voice answers, cool and precise. "Evelyn Summers?"

"Who's asking?" I reply, instinctively taking a step back, something primal warning me of danger.

"Good enough," the voice says, and I catch a glimpse of red hair as she raises her arm. The metallic glint of a gun barrel reflects the distant streetlight.

My breath catches in my throat. Time seems to slow as I stare at the weapon pointed directly at my chest. I should scream. I should run. Instead, I'm frozen, my mind struggling to process what's happening.

"Don't make a sound," the woman says, stepping fully into the dim light. She's tall and lean, dressed in an expensive-looking suit. "We're going to take a little ride together."

"Who are you?" I manage to whisper, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.

Her smile is chilling, stretching across her face. "A concerned family member," she says, gesturing with the gun toward a black car idling at the curb that I hadn't noticed before. "Now move. Slowly."

My legs feel like lead as I walk toward the car, my mind racing through possibilities. This has to be about the twins. It has to be. I've made no other enemies.