Although it was still high noon. There was no sun in sight. The sky was grey and moody and the air was frantic.
It looked as though a storm was coming.
Literally and figuratively.
A black car stopped in front of the gates of Maya's destination.
The door pushed open and Maya got down. Her baby now position with a carrier sling around her.
Her gown swished softly in the breeze as her legs touched the floor. The breeze ruffled her hair hair making it messy but her focus was on her daughter.
The driver thankfully helped with the luggages.
Although she hated the way he kept glancing at her with pity she smiled and thanked him.
"Do you want me to carry it in for you?" He asked.
"Uhm no thanks" She said blandly as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
He nodded. "Take care ma'am"
She only hummed softly in return.
She watched him drive off before turning to the gate to open it. She started first with the suitcase before the carry on.
The gate slid open and she entered.
She paused when she was fully in.
The house was quite the view. Sleek and modern although modest had subtle hint of luxury and a nice arrangement of plants she has always loved. However her eyes wasn't on any of that but the garage on the side.
The blue sports car that wasn't there when she left.
She recognized it to be Chase's.
However her main focus Porsche parked next to it. She stood there in silence for almost forever.
Her hazel eyes slowly went to the building.
The rumbling sound of thunder finally made her blink. Tiny drops began to fall.
Her fingers tightened on the handle of her suitcase and carry-on. She took slow steps into the building.
The door wasn't locked like it was when she left.
She pushed it open.
The house smelled faintly of cedar and cologne — the same cologne he always wore — but underneath it lingered something softer, unfamiliar.
She shifted her daughter's sling against her chest, the tiny warmth of her baby grounding her as she nudged the door open fully.
The wheels of her suitcase caught slightly on the polished marble.
The living room opened before her. The soft hum of the thermostat filled the stillness.
Clean lines and neutral colors dominated everything: pale gray walls, a low black leather couch, a glass coffee table that gleamed beneath the white ceiling lights.
The kitchen stretched to the right — open-plan, all chrome and marble.
Beyond that, a hallway led to the guest room, the study, and the laundry.
To the left, an illuminated staircase curled upward, its glass railing catching the light in a quiet shimmer. .
Everything was just how she left it that she was almost doubting herself.
She stepped inside fully, her heart catching on every echo her slippers made. The soft weight of her newborn rose and fell against her chest.
Then she saw it — the handbag.
It lay carelessly on the sofa, half open, a lipstick rolling slightly against the cushion. Beige leather with gold clasps. Not hers— she'd never spend money on a red birkin bag.
For a moment, her body forgot to breathe. She stared at it as though it might explain itself.
Her throat tightened.
She told herself she could be wrong.
Maybe someone had dropped by.
Maybe it was a colleague's wife, or a neighbor perhaps it was a coincidence that they both had the same car.
But she knew it wasn't.
Her vision swam for a moment, but she stood very still. The child stirred softly against her, making a small sound.
Maya smoothed a hand over her daughter's back, trying to steady herself.
She walked forward towards the stairs. Every step seemed like knife to her chest but she proceeded.
At the front the door of his room she paused.
Her fingers tightened and flexed on her gown. She pursed her trembling lips as her eyes watered.
Maya looked at the door wondering if she could bear to see whatever was going on in there.
Eventually she inhaled and turned around to leave. Her hand circled around her baby.
It was at that moment the door opened