The click of the door closing behind us was soft, but it echoed through the house like a sigh.
The kind that followed something long and restless. The kind that knew there was no turning back.
I stood just past the threshold, suitcase still in hand, watching Mark set his down by the stairs. The lights were low—just the hallway lamp casting a golden haze across the floor, enough to see but not enough to chase the shadows away.
Everything felt heavier here. Or maybe just more real.
My fingers tightened around the handle of my bag, but I didn't move. Not toward the stairs. Not toward the kitchen. Just… toward him.
He turned, like he'd felt me looking, and his eyes locked with mine. That was all it took.
One look.
Not a word spoken. Not a signal given.
And the space between us ceased to exist.
I dropped the bag without thinking.
