The house felt different once Eva closed the door behind her.
Not emptier—she had already lived through that stage—but quieter in a way that made sound feel intentional. The ticking clock in the hallway carried farther than it should have. The low hum of the refrigerator sounded almost intrusive.
Eva stood still for a moment, her hand resting on the door handle.
She hadn’t turned on any lights.
The darkness didn’t frighten her anymore. It had become familiar, even honest. In the dark, things didn’t pretend.
She slipped off her shoes and walked further inside, her steps slow, deliberate. The watch on her wrist felt heavier than before. She glanced at it briefly, then looked away.
“You’d hate this,” she murmured to no one. “Me standing here like I’m waiting for permission.”
Her voice
