In the corner sat an ancient fridge—unplugged and duct-taped shut. Cobwebs hung like curtains across everything. And yet… It didn’t feel like a bunker. Or a storm shelter. It felt like… storage. Forgotten storage. Ordinary. Messy. Pointless. Claire exhaled, lowering the flashlight.
She suddenly felt tired—more than tired. Drained. This was what he left her? This damp basement full of broken furniture and junk? Maybe this was where her father had dumped all the things he didn’t want to deal with. Maybe the barn hadn’t been a gift, just an afterthought.