Four months crawled by, each one slower and heavier than the last. The house that once sang with laughter now whispered like an abandoned shrine.
The scent of Sarah’s perfume still lingered faintly in the hallway — that soft vanilla warmth that refused to fade, no matter how many times Clara cleaned.
James moved through the rooms like a man half alive. His face carried the tiredness of a thousand sleepless nights.
He spoke less, ate barely enough, and his eyes, those deep, steady eyes that once promised safety, now looked hollow, lost in a darkness he couldn’t escape.
Every evening ended the same way. The front door would slam shut, his footsteps fading, and the sound of the car driving off. The bar down the street knew him too well now.
They didn’t bother asking what he wanted any
