I got married and had no idea who I was really living with under the same roof.
When I moved into Victor’s house, I told myself the strangeness I felt was normal.
Of course it was. I had just gotten married.
I was 30, carrying boxes into a home that had belonged to him long before it belonged to us, trying to make peace with unfamiliar hallways, unfamiliar light, and unfamiliar smells in the kitchen cabinets.
Every room still held his habits. His coffee mugs were in the wrong place. His books were arranged by some system only he understood. The soft creak in the upstairs landing always made me think someone was walking behind me.
I was trying to get used to the place, to make it feel like ours.
And almost immediately, I noticed something strange.