After Olivia left, the apartment felt strange.
Too quiet.
Anderson stood in the doorway for a long time, staring at the empty hall as if she might suddenly come back, roll her suitcases inside, and say, “I was just testing you."
She didn't.
The elevator doors at the end of the corridor slid shut with a distant chime. After that, there was nothing.
He finally closed the front door and turned the lock.
His gaze drifted around the living room. The cushions on the sofa were slightly out of place where she had been sitting. The blanket she'd used for her mother earlier lay folded neatly on the armrest. A half-empty glass of water stood on the table.
And, in the center of it all, the stack of divorce agreements.
He walked over slowly, like a man approaching something that might explode.
