Evan moved quickly through the house, calling Lara’s name as if she might answer from a corner he hadn’t checked. The living room held only her cooling mug. The bedroom sat undisturbed, sheets still creased from that morning. The silence felt wrong—too sudden, too complete to make sense.
He stepped to the front door, half-expecting to find it wide open in her panic. Instead, it was pulled shut, latched in the way she always secured it. For a moment, he imagined her fumbling out with shaking hands, closing it behind her out of instinct rather than calm intention. Her shoes were missing from the rack. That detail punched through him.