The cat twined between his legs, purring with relief, or hunger, or solidarity. Marco crouched, rubbed behind her ears, and whispered, “We’re fine now.” Her tail flicked like punctuation. Together they patrolled each corner, and with every step the house felt more his, less invaded, its pulse beating steady again.
He carried the suitcases they had dragged halfway, setting them politely by the porch. They could collect their possessions in daylight, he thought. Tonight belonged to silence, not confrontation. He tidied overturned cushions, reset thermostats, and drew curtains with reverence. The house exhaled gratitude, as if finally free of squatters.