The pattern had started innocuously enough, as most destructive patterns do. Two years ago, when she and David had first moved into their suburban home in Maple Ridge, his family visits had been planned affairs. They would discuss the timing together, coordinate schedules, and divide responsibilities. Sarah would handle the cooking because she genuinely enjoyed it, while David managed the logistics and helped with cleaning and preparation.

But gradually, almost imperceptibly, the collaborative planning had given way to David’s casual announcements. What began as “Mom called and wondered if she could come by next weekend” evolved into “The family’s coming over tomorrow” and eventually into the dreaded last-minute pronouncements that had become the bane of Sarah’s existence.

The shift had been so gradual that Sarah couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had happened