Julian stands outside her closet longer than the situation warrants.
The hallway light casts a pale strip across the closed door, dividing it neatly from the rest of the bedroom. He tells himself he’s looking for something practical—cufflinks, perhaps, or a document she might have moved during the last weeks she still lived here.
Something neutral.
Something uncharged.
He reaches for the handle and opens it slowly.
The air inside is cooler. Still.
Undisturbed.
He steps across the threshold and pulls the door halfway closed behind him, instinctively sealing the space.
Her scent lingers faintly.
Not the sharp brightness Liora preferred. Not the citrus overlay that had tried to reframe the house.
This is softer. Subtle. Almost gone.
He inhales once, then again, as if repetition mig
