The mission was a success. I returned to my own world, waking from the coma that had held me captive. My children, all grown up now, stood vigil by my hospital bed. My wife, Florence, threw her arms around me, her embrace a desperate anchor. Her parents, my in-laws, were weeping with joy. I was just about to dismiss the System, to choose to stay here, in my life, when the door creaked open. A man who was my spitting image—a near-perfect double—walked in. My own two children rushed to him, clinging to his legs with a familiar affection, and called out, “Daddy!” Every eye in the room swiveled to me. The air crackled with a thick, suffocating awkwardness. The man shot me a triumphant, mocking smirk. I put the System on hold. “Let me think about it,” I transmitted. “About whether I want to stay.” 1. My children, Lily and Sam, clutched at the man’s—at Alex’s—clothes, their eyes fixed on me with a wariness usually reserved for monsters. A sharp, needle-like pain pricked at my heart. My wife, Florence, squeezed my arm, her grip tightening. I looked at the others. They had been happily explaining the new emergency alert system they’d installed on my phone, clearly not expecting Alex to make such a dramatic entrance. My father-in-law, his face a mask of embarrassment, finally broke the silence. "Liam, while you were… unconscious, Alex was the one who took care of us. We were going to introduce you two properly when we got home." My mother-in-law chimed in, her voice strained. "Yes, that's right. Now that you're awake, you two should get along. For our sake." Alex just smiled, a lazy, confident expression as he strolled over to my bedside. His eyes were glittering with provocation. I remained silent, freezing the System in my mind. I’ll give you my answer in a couple of days. A soft sigh echoed in my consciousness as the System went dormant. Seeing that I was ignoring him, Alex feigned a wounded look. He forced a smile for the benefit of the room. "My apologies. It was presumptuous of me. Liam has every right to be upset. I'll just… I’ll go." He didn't give anyone a chance to respond, turning on his heel and walking out. "Alex, wait!" my mother-in-law cried, stamping her foot in frustration before hurrying after him. Florence flinched, starting to rise as if by instinct, but my gaze caught hers and she froze, slowly sinking back into her chair. She hugged me tight, her voice the same soothing murmur she’d always used to comfort me. "Don't overthink this, Liam. You're my husband. You're the only one." But then Lily, my daughter, hitched up her little dress and ran out after them. My son, Sam, shot me a look of pure hatred before slamming the door so hard the walls vibrated. I didn't understand. How had my sweet, loving children turned into these hostile strangers? Sensing the tension, my father-in-law excused himself to handle the discharge paperwork. A short while later, I was in a wheelchair, being pushed out of the hospital. But as we drove, I realized this wasn’t the way home. "Dad," I said, my voice raspy. "If I remember correctly, this isn't the road to our house." His hands tightened on the steering wheel for a split second. Then he chuckled, a hollow sound. "Your memory's as sharp as ever, Liam." He took a long, meandering detour before finally pulling into our driveway. I didn't understand the purpose of the scenic route until the moment I stepped through the front door. The large family portrait that had hung in the entryway—the one of the four of us, smiling in the summer sun—was gone. In its place was a new photo. Florence, her parents, Lily, and Sam, all beaming. With Alex. Stunned, I stared at the picture on the wall before storming upstairs and throwing open the door to what used to be my bedroom. Of course. The cuckoo had taken over the nest. Alex had made my room his own. My chest heaved. The decor was completely different, all sleek, impersonal modernism. And there, sitting on the edge of the bed, was Alex, reading a bedtime story to my daughter. A bitter, mocking laugh escaped my lips. For five years, I had slavishly completed every task the System threw at me, all for the singular goal of coming back to my family. And now? Now there was no place left for me in my own home. "You were going to take me somewhere else at first, weren't you?" I asked, my gaze locking onto my once-kindly father-in-law. He had the decency to look away, shamefaced. "We'll get the room cleared out for you right away, Liam. This will always be your home." The moment the words left his mouth, Alex, in the bedroom, put on his wounded act again. He stood up silently and began gathering his things, only to be stopped by Lily. When she thought no one was looking, she launched herself at me, shoving me with all her might. I stumbled, falling hard against the floor. She grabbed the nearest object—a heavy book—and started hitting me with it, screaming through her tears. "You just came back and you're already bullying my daddy! You're a bad man!" "Get out!" "Get out of my house! Leave!" I just stared at the contorted, furious face of the child before me, utterly frozen. 2. Lily’s outburst shocked everyone. Florence grabbed her arm, her brow furrowed in anger. "Lily! What has gotten into you?" But my daughter was inconsolable, her tears fueling a torrent of accusations. The commotion woke Sam, who started crying in the other room. Alex scooped him up, a look of pained helplessness on his face. "Stop, everyone, please stop fighting. This is all my fault. I'll just leave, okay? I'll go!" He made to walk out, but my father-in-law's voice boomed through the house. "Everybody, quiet!" He turned to Alex. "You're not going anywhere. You're staying in this room." My breath caught in my throat. I looked at him, searching for some sign of the man I used to know. He just frowned at me. "Liam, I'll have the entire third floor cleared out for you tomorrow. For tonight, you can sleep in the guest room." He sighed. "Let's just have some peace." His words sent a jolt through me, reminding me of a conversation from before our wedding. "Sir, this is the master bedroom, isn't it? Why are you and Mom giving it to us?" Back then, he had looked at me with such warmth, his smile genuine. "Liam, you're our son-in-law. Of course, we want you to have the best." The memory was a shard of glass in my heart. I turned away, swiping at my eyes, and walked toward the guest room without another word. My father-in-law started to say something, then stopped himself. I was exhausted. I collapsed onto the guest bed, burying my face in the pillow, welcoming the darkness. Suddenly, a warm, fragrant embrace enveloped me. Florence. She pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. "Is my husband in a bad mood today?" she whispered, her voice a low murmur. I opened my eyes and looked at her. She offered a small, hesitant smile. "I need to wash up," I mumbled, pulling away. Florence hugged me again, a quick, tight squeeze, before grabbing her phone and disappearing into the en-suite bathroom. I expected her to be quick. A shower for her was usually a ten-minute affair. But this time, the sound of running water was a constant drone. It was still going when I finally drifted off into a restless sleep. I awoke later to the soft click of the bedroom door closing. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. Her phone, left on the pillow beside me, flickered to life. A new message. From Alex. “Waiting for you ;)” My heart skipped a beat. My hand shot out, grabbing the phone. I swiped to unlock it, my thumb tracing the familiar pattern of my own birthday. Password incorrect. It had always been my birthday. I tried again. And again. Not mine. Not hers. Not the kids'. Then, a sickening thought occurred to me. The contact info for Alex. His name in her phone had a birthday next to it. With trembling fingers, I punched in the date. Unlocked. A wave of ice washed through my veins, chilling me to the bone. I opened their chat history. For the entire hour Florence had been in the bathroom, she hadn't been showering. She had been on a video call with Alex. The phone slipped from my numb fingers. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. After a long moment, I got up and walked silently to the door of my old bedroom. 3. I stood outside the door, forcing myself to watch, a glutton for punishment. I stayed there until my legs gave out and I crumpled to the floor. A faint clatter from the kitchen drew my attention. I turned my head. It was Sam, my seven-year-old son, standing on a stool, clumsily stirring something in a pot on the stove. Fearful he’d get hurt, I pushed myself up and went to him. "Daddy doesn't like cilantro… no onions," he mumbled to himself, a miniature adult concentrating on his task. He carefully lifted the small pot off the stove, and for a second, my heart swelled with a painful tenderness. Then he turned and saw me. His expression soured instantly. "What are you doing here, you bad man!" His words hit me like a physical blow. The "Daddy" he was so carefully cooking for… was Alex. My lips trembled. "Sam, I'm your father. How could you—" "You're not my daddy!" he shouted back, his voice cracking. He shoved past me, carrying the pot of hot soup toward the master bedroom. The push sent me stumbling backward, the corner of the counter digging sharply into my spine. The pain was excruciating. I limped back to Alex’s door. Sam was carefully blowing on a spoonful of soup before holding it up to Alex's lips. Alex praised him with a wide grin, while Florence pulled our son into her lap, ruffling his hair. "Our little Sam is even more caring than his big sister," she cooed. I stood in the shadows of the hallway, a ghost in my own home, watching the three of them. They were a perfect picture. A happy family. My eyes burned with unshed tears. I turned and walked away. The next morning, Florence woke me, a habit she hadn't yet broken. She leaned in for her customary good-morning kiss. I turned my head, and her lips met empty air. She froze, a flicker of confusion in her eyes, before taking my hand and leading me to the dining table. But my seat was gone. Alex sat in my usual spot, a smug, self-satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched me. Florence’s face flushed with embarrassment. She quickly guided me to her own chair, pushing me down gently. "Um…" the nanny began, wringing her hands nervously. "I… I didn't prepare a breakfast for Mr. Liam…" A stunned silence fell over the table. "Didn't Alex tell you?" my father-in-law asked, his brow furrowed. Alex made a show of slapping his forehead. "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry! I was up so late last night, and I completely overslept this morning. I forgot to tell her." He started to get up. "Here, Liam, you can have mine." "Sit down," my mother-in-law said, pressing his hand firmly. "You need to eat. You're too thin as it is," my father-in-law added, his tone full of concern. I was an invisible man, watching this grotesque play unfold. My hands, hanging at my sides, clenched into tight fists. My father-in-law sighed, instructing the nanny to make another breakfast before turning to me, his hand on my arm. "We're planning a party to celebrate your recovery," he said, forcing a cheerful tone. "A proper welcome home. Florence will take you to get a new suit later." I coolly pulled my hand away and nodded. I stared at his face, at the faces of all of them, and a cold question began to form in my mind. Did I really want to stay here?
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