Living under the same roof with Richard Knight was like walking on a rope high, thin, and dangerous. One wrong step, and everything would fall apart.
At first, Ann thought things were working. They had rules. They had space. They were civil. But rules didn’t stop feelings. Space didn’t erase history. And civil, that didn’t last.
Ann was in the kitchen one morning, cooking eggs. She liked doing things for herself. It gave her a sense of control, of normal life. She’d just finished placing toast on a plate when Richard walked in.
“Good morning,” he said, looking far too put together for 7 a.m.
She gave him a short nod.
He opened the fridge. “There’s no almond milk.”
“I didn’t finish it,” Ann said without looking at him. “Maybe your staff forgot to restock.”
Richard closed the fridge
