For the holidays, I returned to the house that was filled with traditions, memories, and people I thought I could trust. But during one quiet holiday season, a single change behind closed doors set off a chain of events that made me question everything and everyone I loved.
I am 26 years old. Every December, I return to the house that still feels more like my childhood home than my own apartment ever has. My aunt Evelyn and my uncle Robert live in a massive, old-money mansion.They live in the kind of house that smells like pine and lemon polish year-round and looks like it belongs on the front of a holiday card. This year, it had garland wrapped up every staircase.
