The rich aroma of simmering spices filled the kitchen as Ned stirred the pot carefully, his mind drifting to memories of his late wife. This was one of her favorite recipes— one she used to make on cold evenings, singing softly as she moved around the kitchen. He could almost hear her voice, feel her presence beside him, but when he turned, there was only the empty space.
With a quiet sigh, he adjusted the heat and reached for the wooden spoon, lost in thought.
Then the doorbell rang.
His hands froze mid-stir. He wasn't expecting anyone. Wiping his hands on a towel, he hurried toward the front door, curiosity and a sliver of unease creeping into his chest. As he pulled it open, his breath caught in his throat.
Claudia stood on the doorstep, her posture straight but her eyes uncertain. A single suitcase sat beside her.
