«Your dad invited you?» he asked, raising an eyebrow.
«Yes,» I said. «I know it’s weird, but I can’t miss Grandma Rose’s 85th. She practically raised me.»
Jake nodded slowly but didn’t look convinced. «And Sierra’s involved too?»
«Yeah, why?» He leaned back in his chair and sighed. «I don’t know, it just feels sudden, like they’re trying too hard to make it sound perfect.»
I knew where he was coming from. My dad and sister were never the warm, family-dinner type. But still, Grandma Rose deserved to be celebrated. And maybe, just maybe, they were trying to patch things up. People change, right?
Jake agreed to come with me, though I could tell he was doing it more to support me than out of excitement. He even booked a small hotel nearby in case we needed some space after the party. I appreciated that. The week leading up to the trip felt strange.
I kept imagining walking back into that house, seeing my old bedroom, stepping onto the creaky porch where I used to sit with Grandma and drink lemonade. And every time I thought about it, I felt a weird mix of nostalgia and unease. The day we left, Jake double-checked everything: car tires, GPS, phone chargers. He’s always careful, but he seemed extra focused this time. I brushed it off as him being overprotective.
The drive took six hours. We played music, shared snacks, and tried to keep things light. Jake asked questions about my childhood, and I told him the good parts, like how Grandma used to sneak me cookies when my dad said no, or how we used to build blanket forts in the living room. We didn’t talk much about Sierra or my father. Some memories are better left in boxes.
When we finally pulled into the driveway, it was like stepping into a memory frozen in time. The same white shutters. The same faded welcome mat. But everything felt staged. The lawn was perfectly trimmed. Balloons were tied to every post, and a banner that read, «Happy 85th, Rose!» hung above the garage.
My father greeted us with a big smile and arms wide open. «There she is,» he said. «My girl.» Sierra appeared next to him, holding a clipboard and giving me an air kiss on the cheek. «We’re so glad you made it, Maya, really.»
Jake stood beside me, his grip on my hand just a little too tight. He didn’t say anything, but I felt it too. Something about all of this didn’t feel right. The moment we stepped inside the house, I felt it. Not warmth, not comfort, not nostalgia. Just something strange. Off.
The living room looked exactly how I remembered it, only too perfect, like a replica from a catalog. The rug I used to lie on while coloring with Grandma had been replaced. The walls were freshly painted. And yet, there was this chill in the air, like the house was holding its breath.
Jake noticed it too. I could tell from the way his eyes scanned every corner, how his fingers tapped restlessly against his leg. He was in observation mode. That quiet part of him always kicked in when something didn’t sit right.
«Looks nice,» I said softly, looking around.
«It looks staged,» Jake murmured under his breath.
Sierra was already gliding around the house, greeting people with that high-pitched voice she always used when she wanted to seem friendlier than she was. Dad was giving a mini-tour to some of the guests, pointing out framed photos and family heirlooms that I didn’t even recognize. And then, in the far corner, near the window, I saw her. Grandma Rose.
She was sitting in her favorite armchair, wrapped in her pale blue shawl, the one she always wore on chilly mornings. She was smiling at a little boy playing with a balloon near her feet. But something about her seemed… off. I walked over slowly and knelt beside her.
«Hi, Grandma,» I said gently.
She looked at me and smiled, but her eyes were tired, foggy, almost. «Maya,» she said softly. «You came.»
«Of course I did,» I whispered, taking her hand. She gave me a light squeeze, but her grip was weaker than I remembered.
I studied her face. She was thinner, paler. Her cheeks had lost their usual rosiness, and her eyelids drooped like she hadn’t had real rest in days. Jake came over and placed a gentle hand on my back.
«Hi, Grandma,» he said kindly.
Grandma blinked up at him. «Oh, Jack,» she said.
I looked at Jake. His smile didn’t move, but I knew what he was thinking. Grandma never forgot his name. Sierra swooped in, breaking the moment. «She’s been a bit sleepy lately,» she said quickly. «Doctor says it’s just age.»
I didn’t like the way she said it: dismissive, rushed. I stood up and looked around the room again. Most of the guests were people I barely recognized—distant cousins, family friends from long ago—but sprinkled among them were a few unfamiliar faces, men in dress shirts and jackets, quietly standing around like they were just waiting.
«Who are those guys?» I asked Jake quietly.
«I was wondering the same thing,» he replied. «They’re not socializing. They haven’t touched any food either.»
Before I could respond, my dad appeared beside us with two glasses of punch. «You two enjoying yourselves?» he asked with a too-wide smile.
Jake took the glass but didn’t drink. «Everything looks very polished,» he said.
Dad chuckled. «Had to make it special. It’s not every day your mother turns 85.» He turned to me. «Glad you came, sweetheart. Your grandmother’s been asking for you.»
I nodded slowly, but I was still staring at Grandma, who was now resting her head back, eyes fluttering closed. Sierra clapped her hands. «All right, everyone, let’s get ready for group photos outside. We want to catch that golden light.» People started moving.
Dad gave us a little wave and joined the crowd. Jake leaned in. «I’m going to step outside for a moment. Just want to check something near the driveway.»
«Check what?»
He gave me a look that said, «I’ll explain later.» I nodded. «Be careful.»
He slipped away without drawing attention. I stayed with Grandma, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead. She stirred but didn’t open her eyes. I couldn’t shake the feeling in my gut. The decorations were perfect. The house was spotless. Everyone was smiling. But none of it felt real. It felt like a setup. And for the first time that day, I wondered if coming back was a mistake.
Jake was gone for maybe ten minutes. When he came back inside, I could tell something had changed in him. His jaw was tighter. His eyes were sharper. The kind of look he gets when he’s piecing things together in his head, when something just doesn’t add up.
He walked straight over to me, where I was helping Grandma sip water from a paper cup. «You okay?» I asked, watching him closely.
«Yeah,» he said, but his voice was clipped. «Can I talk to you for a sec? In the hallway?»
I looked at Grandma, who was nodding off again in her chair, then back at Jake. «Sure.»
We stepped into the hallway just beyond the kitchen. It was quiet there, the music from the backyard muffled behind closed doors. Jake lowered his voice. «I saw wires coming out from under the porch, not just power cables. These were small, tucked away, like someone tried to hide them.»
I frowned. «What kind of wires?»
«Audio, maybe video. One of them ran straight into the wall near the living room window.»
«What would they be recording?»
Jake shook his head. «I don’t know yet. But that’s not all. There are men stationed near the back fence, not guests. They’re dressed like they’re trying to blend in, but they’re not doing anything, just standing, watching.»
I swallowed hard. «Security?»
«No uniforms, no badges. And I overheard one of them say something about timing the drop. That’s not party talk.»
A chill ran down my spine. «Jake, what do you think is going on?» He didn’t answer right away. He glanced over his shoulder, then back at me. «I don’t want to scare you, but I think something bigger is happening here. I also checked the medicine cabinet in the downstairs bathroom. It’s empty. No prescriptions, not even Grandma’s.»
