When Sasha’s newly divorced sister-in-law, Abby, moves in, she expects a temporary guest in need of healing. But Abby doesn’t just settle in—she begins to become Sasha. First it’s the robe, then the perfume, then the way she parents Sasha’s daughters and cooks Sasha’s recipes. Sasha watches, alarmed, as her home—and identity—are quietly mirrored by someone unraveling in plain sight.
Abby’s charm masks a deeper disquiet. She floats through the house like a ghost with good intentions, but her mimicry grows unsettling. One night, Sasha catches her reading her journal. Another, she’s flipping through Sasha’s wedding album, wearing her pajamas, sipping from her wine glass.
A shoebox hidden in Abby’s room reveals the truth: photos of Sasha, journal entries copied, and a letter—written to Michael, Abby’s brother and Sasha’s husband. In it, Abby confesses that Sasha’s life was the one she was meant to have. That she gave up everything for family. That she watched love slip through her fingers.
Sasha realizes Abby isn’t obsessed with her—she’s grieving a life she never got to live. Their shared past in college, once blurry, resurfaces. Sasha recalls how Abby faded from her life just as she fell in love with Michael, not realizing Abby had been quietly breaking all along.
After a confrontation, Abby decides to leave. But in a quiet coffee shop days later, the two women meet again. Abby apologizes. She hadn’t meant to steal Sasha’s life—she just wanted to feel whole. Sasha offers help, not blame. A therapist’s name. A gesture of hope.
Abby walks away, not as a shadow, but as herself, ready to rebuild. And Sasha? Still here. Still whole. Still Sasha.