Sam’s house was colder than the family mansion. Not in temperature, but in feeling. It felt so empty I had a depressive episode.

It sat farther out, surrounded by tall iron gates and quiet land that stretched too far. No Danielle’s easy chatter. No soft footsteps of staff moving through hallways that still felt lived-in. Just silence.

My room was large, pale, and impersonal. A king bed with white sheets. A sitting area by the window. A private bathroom that smelled faintly of new paint. Someone had already placed my luggage neatly against the wall.

I started unpacking without thinking, trying to claim the space so it wouldn’t claim me...