Ryan expected the house to feel quiet when he got home.
Quiet had become normal lately, quiet with Eve’s footsteps in it, quiet with the kettle clicking, quiet with Marlene moving through the kitchen like a ghost who kept the place running without demanding attention.
Quiet with life.
But when he stepped inside, the silence was wrong.
It wasn’t the kind of silence that meant someone was resting.
It was the kind that meant the house was empty.
Ryan closed the door behind him slowly, keys still in his hand, briefcase still hanging from his fingers. The lock clicked, sharp in the stillness.
“Eve?” he called, voice low.
No answer.
He stood for a second in the entryway, listening, waiting for the soft shuffle of slippers, the sound of her voice drifting from the living room, the faint
