As Racheal was dealing with everything in the hospital, Victor’s house was figuratively on fire.

Victor leaned against the window, staring out at the meticulously landscaped garden, his face set in a hardened expression. He had made up his mind.

The house, with its three excessive living rooms and an enormous master bedroom, had become a burden.

“We need to sell this house,” Victor said abruptly, breaking the strained silence that had settled between them.

His voice was firm, but beneath it, there was a simmering anger, a frustration that had been building for months, maybe years. “It’s too much. We don’t need this space anymore.”

Evelyn, perched on the...