Elara stepped out of her rideshare into a world muffled by snow. The sprawling colonial house looked exactly the same as it had three years ago—white columns, black shutters, circular driveway now buried under a fresh foot of powder. Her parents had texted from the cruise ship that morning: ‘Having the time of our lives! The house is all yours until mid-January. Love you!’
They hadn’t mentioned that Cade would be there.
She dragged her suitcase up the cleared path, breath fogging in the frigid air, and let herself in with the key under the frog statue. The foyer was dim, warm, smelling faintly of pine from the Christmas tree nobody had bothered to take down yet. She kicked off her boots, dropped her coat on the banister, and called out a tentative “Hello?”
Footsteps on the stairs. Heavy
