Ava's pov-
The gates groaned open like they didn't want to let me in.
I didn't blame them. I barely wanted to let myself in either.
The tires of my car whispered along the stone driveway as I pulled in, everything around me painted gold and violet by the dying sun. The air smelled like clipped roses and something old—something hiding under all that money and elegance. I used to love this place. I designed every inch of it. The marble statues. The swan fountain. The floor-to-ceiling windows that made it shimmer like glass.
I built this house for him.
For us.
Now it's just me and Adrien. And sometimes I feel like even he's slipping away.
He was quiet beside me, scrolling through his phone. Pretending not to notice me glancing at him every few seconds like I hadn't seen him in years, not just hours.
I missed him all the time—even when he was right there.
We parked, and before I could say anything, he slipped out of the car, all sharp lines and long limbs and cold silence. He didn't look back.
"I'll warm up dinner," I called softly. "Go get changed, sweetheart."
He nodded. That was all I got.
The breeze tugged my scarf as I stepped out, the silk brushing my cheek like a ghost's hand. My heels tapped up the marble steps. The house towered over me—glass and steel and a lifetime of memories sealed inside.
I paused.
The wind had stopped.
So why did I still feel cold?
I looked around. The sky bled red behind the hedges. The statues cast long, unblinking shadows. Everything was exactly the same.
But something felt… off.
Like someone had rearranged the silence while I was gone.
I shook it off. I was just tired. I hadn't been sleeping much lately. Not since—well, not since he left. My husband. My ghost.
Inside, the house smelled like gardenia and polished wood. The lights were warm. Too warm. Like it was trying too hard to be comforting.
I kicked off my heels and made my way across the living room. The grand piano sat untouched. My design shipment was still in boxes by the hallway. Adrien's backpack was half-zipped on the stairs, just like always.
Everything was in its place.
But then I saw it.
The curtain.
Far left window.
It was open.
Just a sliver. A vertical slit where I always—always—drew them shut before sunset.
My stomach dropped.
I never left that curtain open.
I didn't move. I stared. My mind raced through possibilities I didn't like. Maybe the wind? Maybe Adrien? Maybe I forgot? But none of those felt true. None of them explained why the gap looked so perfectly deliberate. Like someone had to see out. Or in.
Then—footsteps.
Behind me.
My heart stopped in my chest. I spun around—
"Hey," Adrien said, blinking at me from the hallway.
I nearly collapsed in relief, but I forced a smile.
"Hi, baby. I just—" I glanced back at the curtain. "I thought I saw something."
He followed my gaze. His brow creased. He didn't say anything.
But he saw it too.
And he didn't believe my lie.
Still, he padded away quietly, leaving me with the silence again. Just me. And the house. And the curtain that shouldn't have been open.
I turned toward the kitchen.
And that's when I saw it.
In the reflection of the glass door by the hallway—just for a moment—there was a shape.
A silhouette.
Standing beside me.
It wasn't Adrien.
It wasn't me.
It was someone else.
Someone tall.
Someone watching.
And then it was gone.