The sound of the front door unlocking broke the stillness of the house. Amelia’s hand paused mid-stir over the simmering pot on the stove. Her grip tightened around the wooden spoon.
Brad was home.
She didn’t turn to greet him. She didn’t call out, didn’t offer the usual “Hey, how was your day?” Instead, she continued stirring the sauce, pretending she didn’t feel the shift in the air the moment he stepped inside.
“Smells amazing,” Brad called, his voice carrying the practiced cheerfulness of a man returning to a picture-perfect home. “Hope I’m not too late.”
She could hear the soft thud of his shoes hitting the floor, his keys clinking in the bowl on the console table. Familiar sounds that once brought comfort.
Now they felt intrusive.
Amelia kept her gaze on the sauce, her expressi
