The light was low, casting shadows like secrets across the room.
Everything in its place—my desk, my files, my trophies.
All untouched.
All perfect.
Except now?
Now it smelled like her.
And that changed everything.
She didn’t scream.
She didn’t demand answers.
She didn’t even slam another door.
She just moved through the room like she was tracing the shape of her own damn downfall.
And in doing so?
She left fingerprints all over mine.
I stopped and decided to check in on her, the corners of my mouth curving with something sharp and slow.
Let her stew.
Let her plot.
Let her pretend she still had control.
Because when she came for me…
When she finally tried to take back power she never truly had…
I’d be waiting.
And I’d smile while I burn her world down.
The door creaked open under my hand.
No knock. No announcement.
Why would I need one?
This was my home.
And she was already mine.
She was curled on the bed, knees tucked up, a book open in her lap.
Didn’t look up.
Didn’t speak.
But her spine straightened—just slightly.
