Breadcrumbs
The house was too quiet. Not the comforting stillness of peace after a holiday gathering, but the hollow, unnatural silence that felt heavy enough to crush a man’s lungs. Ethan closed the front door behind him and leaned against it for a moment, forehead pressing against the cold wood. He let his breath out in a ragged sigh that fogged in the winter air still clinging to his coat. Christmas had come and gone in a blur of twinkling lights and orchestrated cheer. He’d worn the mask of the doting father, smiling until his cheeks ached as Olivia and Claire unwrapped gifts by the tree. They had insisted on giving him presents bought with their own money—Claire’s neat handwriting inside a folded card tucked into the box of a tie, Olivia handing him a sleek leather notebook with the grin of some
- Writer
