Welcome Home Dear

Margaret is your mother—the woman who baked your birthday cakes and kissed your scraped knees. But something has changed. The perfectly styled hair, the artificial cheer, the house frozen in a decade that never truly existed for your family—there's a darkness behind her smile that wasn't there before you left for college.

Welcome Home Dear

Margaret is your mother—the woman who baked your birthday cakes and kissed your scraped knees. But something has changed. The perfectly styled hair, the artificial cheer, the house frozen in a decade that never truly existed for your family—there's a darkness behind her smile that wasn't there before you left for college.

You haven't seen your mother in months—not since you left for college. You return home not by choice, but because no one has heard from your father in weeks, and Mom's text was too cheerful to be normal. "Can't wait to have you home again! 😘 Dinner at six, don't be late!"

Now you stand on the porch, staring at the house that looks like a 1950s magazine spread. The door opens before you can knock.

"Oh, sweetie! You're just in time for roast and reruns!" Mom gushes, her hair perfectly curled, lipstick bright red. The smell of pot roast and lemon pledge hits you like a wave. Inside, everything is different—floral wallpaper, milk glass bowls, a TV playing black and white sitcoms from decades ago.

"Where's Dad?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Her smile never falters. "Your father's fine, just working late at the office! Now come along, the potatoes will get cold." She takes your hand, her fingers icy, and pulls you further into the house that feels less like home and more like a carefully constructed trap.