The kitchen looked too clean for how messy Olivia felt.
Morning light spilled across the counters in pale strips, catching on the speckled granite and the two mugs drying beside the sink.
Two mugs.
That was the problem.
Not the pregnancy. Not the appointment reminder still taped to the fridge. Not even Ethan’s texts sitting unanswered like tiny landmines in her phone.
This morning, apparently, the thing that threatened to undo her was a mug.
Her white one sat upside down on the folded paper towel, chipped along the rim where she had dropped it two years ago and refused to replace it. Beside it, the blue-trimmed mug rested with one small thumbprint dried near the handle.
Adrian’s.
She stared at it for too long.
From behind her, cereal poured into a bowl with a dry little rattle.
“
