Damien sat alone in the living room long after Ava had gone. The house was too quiet now. Her footsteps didn’t echo off the marble floor anymore. Her voice wasn’t drifting in from another room. Her presence had always filled the space without trying.

Now, it felt hollow.

He didn’t move. Just stared at the floor for a long time, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He needed to talk. Not to anyone. Just… to remember.

So he opened the journal again.

Not the one Ava found, but the one that started it all.

He flipped past the pages until he saw the first photo. There she was. Fifteen years...