Upstairs, Alex stepped into Sonia's room with measured steps, a lingering fragrance hung in the air. It felt both familiar and unfamiliar.
Alex's brow furrowed slightly. For a brief second, something tugged at the edge of his mind, a recognition he couldn't quite grasp. Then, just as quickly, he shook his head.
He was overthinking again, he mused.
With quiet determination and scrutiny, his gaze swept around the room which had remained untouched for a long six months. His eyes were sharp at every detail and his ears keen at every sound.
For six months he had never bothered about coming here, not that he had anything to do here anyway.
But standing now in the middle of the room, surrounded by traces of a life he had deliberately ignored, Alex found himself unable to maintain that same indifference. He had to admit—even if only to himself—that he had come on impulse.
Perhaps to check on his deceased wife's possessions.
Perhaps to confirm something.
Or perhaps…to deny it.
