It took a few days, but Sydney finally managed to put the clean laundry away; she hoped Todd would be pleased. He didn’t have much praise for her lately, but in his defense, she hadn’t been doing much to deserve it. She slept too long, ate too much, and devoted too much time to Facebook.

This was her biggest mistake of all: Facebook. Todd hate it more than anything, and said it filled her mind with useless garbage. Too many people sharing unsolicited opinions and advice, she didn’t need anymore thoughts clouding her already overworked mind, he would say. But, she would argue back, it was the best way to keep in touch with her mother. This wasn’t much of an argument to Todd, because he truly hated her mother.

Sydney sat on the bed for a moment, surrounded by piles of clean clothes ready and waiting to be put away, and began to cry.

As a girl, she dreamed of a husband who hosted family parties and made jokes with her parents. He would buy special gifts for her mother and help her father cook the holidays feasts. He would make hot chocolate for their children, and pretend not to notice his milk mustache as they giggled.

But this wasn’t Todd: he wouldn’t be in the same room with her mother, let alone buy her a gift. Sydney’s father passed before she ever met Todd, but Todd couldn’t cook to save his life anyway. He didn’t want children either, nor did he like chocolate. He didn’t even believe in marriage. But she loved him, still.

He wouldn’t even be around for the upcoming holidays because he refused to take off of work. Sydney slid off the bed and down to the floor, thinking about the impending loneliness. Here for two weeks, gone for two weeks; he initially boasted about how perfect this schedule was because they’d never smother each other. They would always have their space. She tried to plead her case this year, that the holidays were so important and she didn’t want to be alone, but he told her someone had to work to take care of her, since she wasn’t qualified to do anything.

Sydney laid down and curled up on the floor, the weight of her emptiness too heavy to bear at the moment. And that’s when she saw it; there was an iPad under the bed. Sniffing, she picked it up curiously, wondering if it was a gift Todd left behind, and sat upright. But it wasn’t wrapped, it wasn’t even in a box. She turned it on and gasped, her stomach sinking. The background picture showed a loving family she’d never seen before, with Todd right in the middle, a toddler in his shoulders and his arms wrapped around the woman.

Sydney unlocked the iPad - there wasn’t even a passcode - and noticed the Facebook app. She opened it, driven by familiarity. She opened the profile and the pictures clearly showed Todd, only his name was Phil. And he had a wife named Chrissy. And a 1 year-old son named Jackson. And a 3 year-old daughter named Harlow. She scrolled in a trance, unable to stop or look away from the last four years’ worth of Facebook memories all happening in tandem with her own.

He was tagged in a photo of Chrissy’s from a few days ago that showed the children playing in leaves, “these babies can’t wait for Daddy to be home from work!! See you tomorrow, my love!”

Sydney was suddenly fresh out of tears, and filled in an unbridled rage. The spell was broken, and just like that, she could see everything with fresh eyes.