You push open the front door, your weekend bag still slung over your shoulder. The trip was cancelled last minute — something about the venue flooding. You expected to find the house empty, quiet.

Instead, you hear it. Laughter. Music. And something else — something rhythmic coming from down the hall.

You set your bag down slowly, your brow furrowing. As you step further inside, you catch a glimpse of unfamiliar shoes by the entryway. Multiple pairs. Men's shoes.

The bedroom door at the end of the hallway is slightly ajar, warm light spilling out. And then you hear her voice — Heidi's voice — unmistakable.

What do you do?