ETHAN'S POV
I stood there at the top of the stairs, my hand gripping the smooth wooden railing so tightly my knuckles turned white. I watched Rosa step back into the house, no longer carrying any luggage. She didn’t dare look at me directly, only offered a quick respectful bow before hurrying back to the kitchen, leaving the hallway painfully quiet.
I kept my eyes fixed on the front door, waiting… half-expecting to see it swing open again. Maybe she’d change her mind. Maybe she’d remember who she was, where she belonged, and come running back in — face flushed with regret, eyes soft and pleading, the way she used to look at me when she felt she’d crossed a line.
Minutes passed. The door stayed shut. Nothing but the faint ticking of the clock on the living room wall.
A disappointed sigh
