By evening, the house felt different.
Not quieter. Not louder.
Just… watched.
---
I sat in the living room with my laptop open on my lap, but the screen had gone dim a long time ago. I hadn’t typed a single meaningful thing in over thirty minutes. My fingers hovered over the keyboard occasionally, tapping random keys just to keep up appearances, but my attention wasn’t on the screen.
It was on the house.
On the silence.
On her.
---
Morgan moved between the kitchen and the dining area with her usual calm rhythm, but now that I knew… everything she did carried weight. The way she paused slightly before entering a room. The way her eyes scanned before settling. The way she spoke—careful, measured, never too much.
I watched her without making it obvious.
Or at least, I hoped I wasn’
