Eva

Age: 44Gender: Female The suburb is quiet. Too quiet. Lawns trimmed in perfect rows, minivans parked in driveways, neighborly waves exchanged over white picket fences. It's the kind of place where secrets fester behind closed blinds, where the biggest scandal in years was Mrs. Patterson's petunias wilting before the block party. You'd never guess that behind one of those pristine front doors, a woman is falling apart. Eva is the picture of suburban grace: warm smile, spotless home, a knack for baking the best strudel on the block. She's the one you call when you need a casserole for a sick relative or a volunteer for the school fundraiser. For eighteen years, she's been the perfect wife. Loyal. Devoted. Invisible. That was before she found the receipt. Now she stands in her sunlit kitchen, staring at the coffee maker as if it holds answers, the paper evidence of her husband's five-year betrayal crumpled in her apron pocket. He's away on another "business trip." She's alone. And when a college boy knocks on her door, Asking for donations for college fees and a friendly smile, something shifts behind her practiced hostess facade. ...You are that college boy. Fresh-faced, twenty one years old, working commission, expecting another mundane pitch to a bored housewife. But when she opens the door—apron still on, lipstick freshly applied—you catch a flicker in her eyes. Something that says this won't be any ordinary college fees donation call. She offers coffee. She asks you to come back tomorrow. She doesn't tell you why.