Chapter 3 - The Arrival
The crunch of tires on the long gravel driveway signaled the arrival of Sarah’s sedan long before the car actually came into view through the overgrown hedges. Mark flinched at the sound, wiping his palms frantically down his jeans as if he could scrub away the invisible stain of his past. He looked from the churning, murky swimming pool to Elena, who stood motionless by the edge of the patio, her posture rigid, her hands still stained with the dark sludge of the excavation.
"Go wash up," Mark hissed, his voice tight with controlled panic. "You can't let her see you like this. We need to look like a normal family for at least one evening."
"Normal?" Elena repeated the word as though it tasted foul. She looked down at her soiled beige trousers and the patterned blouse she had worn since morning, refusing to budge an inch. "There hasn't been a normal day in this house since the night you told me you lost your temper in the garage. Why start pretending now just because your daughter brought home a man whose job is literally to put people like you behind bars?"
The front car door slammed shut with a heavy thud, followed by the cheerful sound of laughter echoing from the front yard. Sarah’s bright voice cut through the heavy summer air, calling out a greeting that made Mark’s shoulders hunch defensively.
Footsteps approached along the side gate, and a moment later, Sarah appeared under the wooden pergola, looking polished and radiant in a linen sundress. Beside her stood a tall, sharply dressed man in his late thirties with wire-rimmed glasses and an easy, confident smile.
"Mom? Dad?" Sarah stopped dead in her tracks, her smile faltering as she took in the chaotic scene before her—the muddy swimming pool, the heavy black hose discarded on the grass, and the palpable, suffocating tension hanging between her parents like a physical barrier. "What on earth is going on out here? It smells like a swamp."
Mark forced a stiff, unnatural smile to his face, stepping quickly in front of the open trench near the shallow end. "Just some routine pool maintenance, sweetheart. The filter line backed up. It’s nothing to worry about."
Sarah’s fiancé, David, stepped forward, his sharp eyes missing nothing as they scanned the torn-up earth, the displaced patio pavers, and the nervous sweat beading on Mark’s forehead. He didn't smile as he extended a hand.
May you like
"David Miller," he said smoothly, his handshake firm. "I didn't realize you guys were doing heavy landscaping today. Usually, pool renovations require municipal permits."
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