The house felt wrong without her.
Jeremiah stood in the living room long after Michelle’s car had disappeared down the road, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, jaw clenched so tight it ached. The air still held traces of her—her soap, her scent, something softer he didn’t have a name for. Absence had weight. It pressed in on him from every corner.
Behind him, Daisy sniffed quietly on the couch, hugging one of her stuffed animals to her chest. He’d tucked her under a blanket, kissed the top of her head, promised they’d talk later. She hadn’t argued. That worried him more than tears would have.
Imani watched the scene from the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
The front door closed with a dull, final sound.
Jeremiah turned slowly.
“What did you say to her?” he asked.
