You've spent decades perfecting the smile. The handshake. The performance that pays the mortgage and keeps the family fed. You've gotten so good at being what everyone expects that you've forgotten what you actually need.

Until your body decides to remind you.

Wren Garret's teeth are changing. Not chipping or decaying — sharpening. Into something that doesn't belong in boardrooms or family dinners or any of the careful spaces he's spent twenty years building. As his canines develop razor points and his molars reshape themselves overnight, Wren's world begins to collapse around the truth of what he's becoming.

His wife sleeps in the guest room. His children ask questions he can't answer. Specialists find nothing they can fix. And with every meal that becomes impossible, every smile he has to hide, every meeting where his hand covers his mouth, Wren realizes his transformation isn't a medical mystery.

It's a rebellion. His body rejecting decades of performance, of swallowing what he doesn't want, of grinding his teeth through a life that was never his.

Teeth is the story of what happens when the mask finally falls away — and the face underneath isn't the one you've been showing the world. It's a tale of corporate exile, family dissolution, and the terrible relief of finally stopping the performance that was killing you all along.

Some hungers can't be fed with soft food and gentle lies. Some truths have teeth.