Edward's Point Of View
The car rolled to a halt in front of the estate, tires crunching over gravel with a sound that reminded me of bone meeting a grinder. Usually, this familiar noise signaled sanctuary, the quiet victory of another day conquered.
Tonight, it sounded like the closing of a vault, sealing me inside with my failures. Each crunch felt deliberate, marking the seconds until I would have to face what awaited me inside.
The driver cleared his throat, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror for a fleeting, cautious second. "We're home, Mr. Moore," he announced, his voice soft, almost as if he feared the sound might shatter me into pieces. I saw the question in his gaze, the concern he was too professional to voice.
I only nodded. My body refused to move. I remained in the back seat for what felt like an eternity, staring at the darkened windows of the house I'd built on a foundation that was currently liquefying beneath me.
