It happened on a Thursday.
Ordinary.
Unremarkable.
The kind of day that didn’t warn you before changing everything.
She was in the kitchen with Noah, helping him cut apples into uneven pieces while he narrated a dramatic story about a squirrel who secretly ruled the neighborhood.
Ethan was in the shower upstairs.
The doorbell rang.
Once.
Then again.
Noah frowned. “Are squirrels allowed to knock?”
She smiled. “Only very polite ones.”
She wiped her hands on a towel and walked to the door.
Through the glass panel, she saw him.
And the world narrowed to a single sharp point.
Same dark hair.
Same familiar stillness.
Same way of standing like he owned the space around him.
Her chest locked.
Her fingers went cold.
Another knock.
Slow.
Deliberate.
She didn’t open the door.
B
