After long minutes, he finally staggered to his feet and made his way to the master bedroom. He pushed the door open gently, almost as though asking permission to enter. Everything was exactly as Karina had left it. Her perfumes lined up on the vanity, her jewelry carefully tucked away, their photo on the nightstand. He walked toward the closet, hesitant. When he opened the doors, her scent hit him like a punch to the gut.

Her clothes were still there, neatly arranged, some with the tags still on—pieces she never had the chance to wear. Thor brushed his hands across the fabrics, touching each one as though searching for a trace of warmth. He picked up one of her favorite dresses, a light floral she wore on lazy afternoons, and brought it to his face. He inhaled deeply. Her fragrance was still there.

It was too much.

A harsh, broken sob tore out of him. Thor collapsed to his knees in the middle of the closet, clutching the dress, burying his face in its fabric. He screamed in silence.