AVA'S POV
The house felt too quiet without Ethan.
Not the uncomfortable kind of quiet that creeps in after a fight, but the kind that echoes gently after someone you love leaves, even temporarily.
He'd texted me not long after landing in Paris, checking in, asking if I was fairing well, if I'd eaten, if the staff had settled in.
I smiled as I reread his last message:
> "Miss me yet? Don't let Melanie drown you in meetings. Eat something. And breathe, my love."
Typical Ethan, steady, protective, knowing exactly what to say even from another continent.
I curled into the armrest of the couch, one leg tucked beneath me, my phone still in hand.
The large glass windows let in the morning sun, warming the cream throw blanket draped over my shoulders.
Downstairs, I could hear faint movements, doors opening, drawers closing, the gentle clink of plates being arranged.
The new domestic staff had started work this morning, and already the house felt… lighter.
Organized. Alive.
