EZRA SWAN.

꘎♡━━━━━━━♡꘎

Coming home from work and not finding her there has become part of a routine I hate—though I’m starting to fear I'm slowly getting used to it. And I don’t want to. She was always the light that filled this house, the only one able to melt away even a little bit of the coldness that seems soaked into these walls. Without her, even the air smells different. Heavier. More hollow.

The ceiling clock reads 7:15 when I come down the stairs. My footsteps echo like each one carries extra weight. I stop for a moment before entering the dining room, leaning against the doorframe. The smell of freshly toasted bread, simmering bones, and crispy bacon fills my nose. It’s strange. Very strange. My dad doesn't usually stick around the house this long in the mornings. Much less to make breakfast.

"I thought you were going to work today," I say, stepping in slowly, as if measuring every movement. I sit carefully across from him, noticing how his fingers tap lightly on his coff