The air in the cabin was heavy the next morning, thick with words left unsaid. Daniel hadn’t spoken to me since my half-confession the night before. He hadn’t touched me either. He moved through the rooms with the quiet intensity of a man rehearsing violence in his head.
I tried to cook breakfast, but my hands shook too much. The eggs burned in the pan, the smell of smoke filling the air. Daniel walked past without glancing at me, took his coffee black, and disappeared into the study. The sound of the door closing behind him was sharp, deliberate, final.
I was left in the kitchen, staring at the ruined food, fighting tears. The silence was unbearable.
And then—three soft knocks on the back door.
I froze.
The knocks came again, barely audible, almost cautious.
My pulse thundered in my
