That house.
The one she had poured years into—her time, her love, her patience.
The one she had believed was her future.
And now… in a single moment, it had turned into something else.
Something suffocating.
“I don’t have anything,” she whispered.
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
“You have yourself.”
A pause.
“And that’s enough.”
The words settled into her chest, heavy… but grounding.
For a brief second, she stood there, caught between two worlds—the one she had built… and the one she was about to walk into.
Then something inside her shifted.
She didn’t go back to that door.
She didn’t knock.
Didn’t scream.
Didn’t beg.
Sophie simply… turned away.
And walked into the rain beside her brother.
Inside the house, Daniel stood by the window, arms crossed, watching her leave.
Annoyed.
But not worried.
Never worried.
“She’ll regret it,” he muttered. “She has nowhere to go.”
Behind him, his mother—Margaret—let out a dry, dismissive laugh.
“Let her leave. She’ll be back tomorrow. They always come back.”
But that night…
she didn’t.
The next morning, Daniel woke up later than usual.
The house felt… different.
Too quiet.
No coffee brewing.
No breakfast waiting.