Gwen sat at the kitchen table, flipping through an old photo album. She hadn’t planned to pull it out today, but the quiet in the house made it hard to do much else. A month had passed since Albert died, yet everything still felt paused—as if waiting for him to return.
She paused at a photo of the two of them, standing outside their home, arms linked. The garden looked rough around the edges, but they were smiling like it didn’t matter. It was taken not long after they moved in. That house had seen their best and worst days.