That time, I laughed out loud. I couldn’t help it. It sounded absurd, like a bad sitcom line. But her face stayed flat, arms crossed. She meant it. I placed the socks in the basket slowly, as if movement might delay reality. Then I stood up and walked past her, calm and quiet. In the hallway, I caught a glimpse of our family photo on the shelf—my frame, my print. But I wasn’t in it anymore.

The office door was already open. Boxes were stacked inside. By the next morning, the shift had already begun. Taran knocked lightly on my door like I was a guest borrowing space. She stepped in with a plastic smile and a Sharpie in her hand.

“Hey, do you mind starting to pack up some of your non‑essentials? Just so we can start making room for the in‑laws. I figured the office closet could hold some of your stuff temporarily. Non‑essentials.”