Six Years Later
Leah
I parked my car outside the sprawling entrance of the house I’d once called home. It felt smaller now—not less grand, just less mine. The iron gates stood open, a soft breeze rustling the manicured hedges, and my heart thudded harder than it should have as I glanced at the dashboard clock.
Fifteen minutes early. Of course I was.
It had only been a week since the divorce was finalized, and the weight of that knowledge still pressed on me, even though I knew ending our marriage had been the right decision.
Before I fully registered what I was doing, my hand was already pressing down on the ornate brass handle. The door swung open, my footsteps echoing against the gleaming marble floor of the foyer. I had once navigated these halls without a second thought. Now, each
