The house did not feel empty after Willow left, but it did feel unfinished in a way Zane could not immediately explain. Everything remained where it belonged. The furniture had not shifted. Zana's toys were scattered across the living room floor exactly as they had been the night before. Willow's mug still sat in the sink, rinsed but not put away. Her sweater hung over the back of the chair where she had left it, as though she planned to return before anyone noticed its absence.
What unsettled him was not the silence, because the house was never truly silent with a baby in it. What unsettled him was the altered rhythm. The spaces between sounds felt longer. The pauses carried weight.
Zane noticed it most in the mornings.
