Instead he saw my house exactly as it always was in the morning: polished table by the stairs, umbrella stand, framed prints on the wall, one shoe kicked half under the entry bench because Ethan never put his things away unless I nagged him.
“Just don’t destroy anything,” he said. “If he wants his belongings, keep them accessible. Otherwise, given…” He glanced once more at my phone. “Given this, he has no legal right to force entry.”
“Of course,” I said.
He nodded. The younger one looked like he wanted to say something funny, thought better of it, and settled for an expression somewhere between sympathy and admiration.
They left shaking their heads.
I closed the door, leaned back against it, and let out a breath that felt like it came from someplace low and ancient in my body.
So.
That was how the day was going to be.