The house felt different the moment Roy stepped inside.
It was the same house he had lived in for years—same cream walls, same quiet hum of the air conditioner, same faint scent of polish and wood—but tonight, it no longer belonged solely to him. The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was thick, watchful, almost accusatory.
Karen stepped in behind him, pulling her small suitcase along the tiled floor. The sound echoed, loud in the quiet, and Roy flinched without meaning to. He loosened his tie slowly, his movements stiff, mechanical, like a man going through motions he hadn’t agreed to but had been forced to accept.
Karen watched him closely.
She had imagined this moment countless times—walking into Roy’s home as his wife, being welcomed, being held, being told everything would be fine. Inste
