Chapter 10 - The Quiet House
By late afternoon, the house was utterly silent.
The heavy suitcases rolled down the front steps, thudding against the concrete driveway. Harrison tried one last time to look back, offering a pathetic plea for sympathy, but I stood firmly in the doorway, locking the heavy deadbolt behind them the second their car cleared the driveway.
I walked back into the kitchen, the sunlight streaming brightly through the spotless windows. The air felt lighter, cleaner, completely purged of the suffocating tension that had choked the life out of my home for nearly a year.
I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. There was no cake on the patio, no angry footsteps pounding overhead, no walking on eggshells. For the first time since Daniel passed away, the house belonged to me again.
May you like
My phone buzzed on the table. It was a message from Brenda: Are you holding up okay, sweetie?
I smiled, picking up the phone and typing back: Never better. Come over tomorrow. We’re baking a new cake—and this time, we’re eating every single slice ourselves.
