Private lives

CHAPTER 1: THE PERFECT STREET

Jacaranda Lane was the kind of place people envied.
Everything looked right.
The houses stood in neat rows, painted in soft whites and warm greys. Gardens were trimmed, cars polished, curtains always half-drawn—never fully open, never fully closed.
Perfect.
Lena Marais stood at her kitchen window, watching the world across the street.
At exactly 7:15 a.m., the Verhoeven front door opened.
Daniel stepped out first, dressed in a crisp shirt, his movements precise. Behind him came Mariska, her robe loosely tied, her hair still messy from sleep.
She kissed his cheek.
He smiled.
A perfect goodbye.
But Lena didn’t believe in perfect anymore.
She waited.
Because she knew what came next.