I wandered to the window and peered outside.
A sea of vehicles surged along the paved streets below, their movements abrupt and unpredictable. Some stopped suddenly; others lurched forward.
Then, blaring noises cut through the air—loud, shrill sounds that grated against my ears.
I flinched. “What is that?”
Lee chuckled. “Those are horns.”
I shot him a look. “Horns?”
“Yeah. Cars, trucks, SUVs—they all have them.” He grinned. “It’s how you yell at the person before you without opening your mouth.”
I scowled. “I don’t like it.”
Lee laughed and patted my shoulder. “Neither did I, at first.”
I pivoted from the window, scanning the sparse room. “Where do we start? This place looks bare.”
“It is.” Lee exhaled. “Jack and I have searched everywhere.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Because I want fresh eyes on it.” He gestured for me to move freely. “Go through the closets, open drawers, check every corner. I’ll start in the kitchen.”
I nodded.
I would find it if Tristan had left anything behind—anything at all.
I moved down the short hallway, my senses on high alert.
Nothing in this place smelled remotely like Olivia—no lingering trace of her perfume, no comforting warmth of her presence.
Instead—mold.
The scent of abandonment.
I raced through the apartment, flinging open doors and yanking cupboards wide, desperate to uncover any sign of Tristan’s whereabouts.
Nothing.
My heart sank with every empty drawer, every barren shelf—until I reached the bedroom.
I threw open a drawer and?—
My breath hitched.
An onslaught of delicate lace lingerie met my eyes.
Olivia’s.
A visceral ache swallowed me whole.
My fingers hovered over the soft fabric, a last, fragile remnant of her presence.
My beloved wife, lost to me across time.
I swallowed against the emotion sticking in my throat.
