The house had gone so quiet it felt radioactive.
Owen stood at the kitchen counter, flipping a chipped mug between his palms, staring out the window at nothing.
The phone on the counter buzzed once.
Again.
Again.
He ignored it.
The third buzz came with a vibrating persistence that drilled into the back of his skull.
He slapped the phone on speaker, not even checking the caller ID.
“What,” he barked.
Chloe’s voice exploded out, raw and splintered:
“Keeley’s dead!”
Owen froze, the mug slipping from his hands and shattering against the tile.
The silence that followed swallowed the room whole.
“What?” he said — flat, stupid, like the word didn’t make sense in English anymore.
“She’s dead!” Chloe sobbed, choking on it.
“They said she… she hit her head. Fell or something. But now
