The house had stopped feeling like a home long ago. It was now just walls and whispers — the scent of sorrow lingering in every room.
James barely spoke to Tiana anymore.
When he wasn’t at work or at the police station, he spent his hours in Daniel’s room, sitting silently on the edge of the bed, as if expecting the boy to walk through the door again.
Clara moved carefully through her chores, praying silently for peace to return, but instead, tension brewed like a storm about to break.
That morning, after Melissa had left for school, Clara stepped out through the back door to hang some washed sheets under the soft morning sun. The scent of detergent still clung to her fingers.
She was humming quietly when she froze at what she saw — Tiana, standing by the garbage bins behind the h
