Dinner was served at exactly 7:00 p.m.
Not a minute early. Not a second late.
The long table sat beneath a chandelier that glowed like sunlight through amber — too soft, too perfect. Three places were set. Porcelain plates. Crystal glasses. Forks that gleamed unnaturally, as if never touched by real mouths.
Serene stood at the edge of the dining room, unsure whether to sit or flee.
"Please," Roman said, gesturing to the chair in the center. "It's yours."
Not the head of the table. Not the foot.
The center.
Between them.
Lelo took her seat without a word. Her posture was flawless. Back straight. Napkin in her lap. Knife and fork at the ready like a well-trained hostess. Her wide eyes never left Serene.
"I told the chef you like mild spices," Roman said as he poured wine into Serene's glass. "Not too oily. A hint of rosemary."
"I never told anyone that," Serene murmured.
"You didn't have to."
---
The food was beautiful. Fragrant. Familiar.
Beef stew the way her aunt used to make it in the rainy season. Warm plantains dusted with cinnamon. A green salad with mango slivers sliced like ribbons.
She didn't touch it.
"You'll find," Roman said, "that things here are always warm. The bath. The floors. The light. Your bed. Your meals. Even in the coldest months."
Serene finally looked him in the eye. "Because cold means real."
Roman smiled. "Cold means discomfort. And we won't have you uncomfortable here, wife."
---
Lelo began to hum.
A soft, wordless tune — one that sounded like a lullaby and funeral march stitched together.
Serene gripped her spoon. Her hands trembled.
"You'll be expected to eat with us," Roman continued. "Dress well. Speak when spoken to. Rest when told. You'll never be harmed, Serene… unless you break the rhythm."
"Rhythm?"
"Of the house."
---
After dinner, Roman handed her a card.
It was thin and pale and smelled like lavender oil. On it, in typewritten ink:
House Rules
1. You may not lock any door.
2. You may not raise your voice.
3. You may not speak of the outside.
4. You must remain dressed modestly when outside your room.
5. You must join all meals unless unwell.
6. You must be present when Lelo requests you.
7. You must never lie to Roman.
---
Serene stared at it.
"It's a joke," she whispered. "This isn't a home. It's a script."
Roman's smile faded — just a flicker. But it was enough to freeze the air.
"I know change is hard," he said softly. "But you'll adjust. We'll help you. That's what a family does."
Lelo took her hand then.
Soft. Cold.
"I missed you, Mama," she said.
Serene didn't pull away.
But inside her skull, something screamed.
---