Daniel Savoy.

Their marriage changed the rules of the house. Christie wore his name like it belonged to her. He wore the ring like a vow carved into bone. Perfect on the surface. Untouchable. Everyone believed it. I didn’t. Because the first time he saw me after the wedding, something in his eyes broke discipline. Just for a second. Darkened. Deepened. Like the sight of me reminded him of a thought he’d buried alive. They went to New York for their honeymoon. Then they came back early. California felt colder after that. Tighter. As if the space between us had shrunk without permission. Christie smiled when she asked me to stay for a month. Said it was *family.* Said he wouldn’t mind. He minded. I saw it in the way his jaw locked when my suitcase crossed his doorway. In the way his eyes followed me through his house—not curious, not soft—claimed.