The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the expansive kitchen, mingling with the faint aroma of butter and maple syrup. The morning sun spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating sleek marble countertops and stainless steel appliances that gleamed under the light.
It was picture-perfect.
Elegant. Immaculate. And yet it wasn’t home.
Isabelle stood at the kitchen island, gripping her coffee mug tightly, trying to shake the unsettling feeling that had settled in her chest the moment she woke up.
The mattress was too plush. The sheets were too crisp. The house was too quiet.
Her old apartment had been filled with life—laughter, toys scattered across the floor, morning cartoons humming in the background.
Here, the silence was almost suffocating.
The Twins’ unce
