Her eyes glazed—not confused, but scared.

“She told me… she told me not to come back in.”

My chest tightened, breath caught. What?

I lifted her into my arms and pushed open the front door.

The warmth inside hit me like a slap. The fireplace was lit, Christmas music played softly, and candles flickered across the living room. And there, on the couch, sat Lydia—laughing—beside a man I had never seen before. Their wine glasses clinked.

The moment she saw me, the smile vanished. Her face went white.

“Michael? You’re—back?”