Matthew unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The air met him the same way it always had—still, faintly conditioned, untouched by anything personal. The curtains were drawn halfway, letting in a muted wash of evening light that fell across the couch, the table, the untouched glassware.
Nothing had changed.
For a second, he just stood there, the handle still in his grip, his suitcase resting beside his leg like something he hadn’t fully decided to carry in.
Then he let go. The door shut behind him with a quiet click.
He walked further in, slow at first, his gaze sweeping the room like he expected something to jump out at him—some sign that things had changed while he was gone.
There was nothing.
He dropped the suitcase near the couch, the sound dulled against the carpet, then reache
