The warmth of home greeted her the moment she stepped into the hallway—soft lighting, the faint scent of vanilla from the diffuser, and the quiet hum of domestic life in motion. Amelia’s giggles floated in from the living room, followed by Eliott’s dramatic reenactment of something they’d seen on a cartoon that morning.
It was the kind of chaos Isabelle had grown to treasure.
She’d just finished folding the last of the twins’ laundry when she heard the door open and close gently.
Sebastian was home.
She smiled, stood from the couch, and moved toward the hallway, brushing her hands on her thighs out of habit.
“There you are,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. “You’re late.”
Sebastian didn’t respond. His body was stiff in her hold, like he hadn’t even registered
