Sam let me pick my own outfit, yet his gaze lingered on every zipper as if each pull‑up could be a final verdict.

"See. How is all this for a change?" He would brag each time he let me do something.

That glint in his eyes. I knew he expected me to worship him for letting me breathe.

By the time we reached his parents' dining‑table, my palms had gone cold.

Almost‑winter candlelight glinted off polished stemware; neatly‑written place‑cards tried to sell the illusion that this was nothing more than a casual family meal.

Lots of murmuring; Thanks for coming. Good to have you here. My sons. And Hello, Katherine...