SLOANE
The house felt too big without him.
For the first two days, it was a relief. The air was lighter. The constant, low-level thrum of tension that had taken up residence in my chest finally subsided. I could walk into the kitchen without my heart hammering against my ribs. I could sit at the dinner table without feeling the heat of his gaze on the side of my face. I could breathe.
I told myself this was better. This was normal. This was the way it was supposed to be.
By the third day, the silence had started to curdle. It was no longer peaceful. It was empty. A hollow, echoing void where his presence used to be. I found myself listening for things that weren’t there: the heavy thud of his footsteps on the stairs, the sound of his car pulling into the driveway, the low, infuriatingl
