Adrian’s grip tightened around the teddy bear’s paw. He stepped out of the car, his stomach knotting for reasons he couldn’t explain. The air was warm, but his skin felt chilled.
The front doors opened slowly, like the house itself didn’t want to welcome him back. The House Smelled Like Someone Else’s Life
The moment Adrian stepped inside, the cold air-conditioning hit him hard. Not just cool, but sharp, like a hotel lobby that never wanted you to get comfortable.
And the scent—his chest tightened again. No fresh bread. No flowers from the garden Hannah used to pick and place in tiny vases.
No hint of the homey candle Hannah begged to light during movie nights. Instead: expensive essential oils, clean and sterile, like the place had been wiped of warmth on purpose. His eyes lifted to the main wall of the living room.
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