By the time Olivia had fumbled with the deadbolt, the hush on the other side of the door seemed to swallow her whole.
Not the peaceful kind.
The hollow kind.
She leaned against the wood for a heartbeat, drawing in a breath that tasted faintly of stale coffee and something colder—absence, maybe. Or the space that grows when two people fall out of step. She slipped out of her heels by the entryway, the soft “thump” echoing down the hallway. Her toes flexed against the cool hardwood, and she instinctively smoothed the fabric of her skirt, as if brushing away the crease of an awkward moment yet to come.
For a second, her gaze flickered to the console table.
A framed photo sat there—Ethan, arm slung loosely around her shoulders, both of them angled toward the camera in that practiced, poli
