Juliette
I plonk on the couch and put on some true crime show on Netflix.
Even after a month, everything in this house still smells new. From this gigantic grey couch to the wooden table to the vintage curtains to the glass of wine clutched in my hand.
I thought a new house would be the first step to moving on. God, was I wrong. This lovely house is just another reminder that I'm a sad and lonely widow. It's another reminder that I don't have a husband to warm my bed. It's another reminder that I don't have a husband to make babies with. It's another harsh reminder that I'll never have a family to make memories with. Thinking about that makes me bitter and angry.
I grab my phone and call Peter Park. He picks on the second ring.
"Have you found anything?"
"Not yet." He says. "If I do,
