The House That Waited
Noah had never planned to come back. Not after what happened. Not after that night.
But here he was, standing at the edge of the lake, staring up at the house that had once been his dream—the house they had built together.
It was exactly the same. Too much the same.
The black walls stood firm against the backdrop of towering mountains, the wooden decks still adorned with the same potted plants she used to care for. Even the chairs on the balcony were positioned exactly as they had been when he left.
It was as if time had frozen.
As if the house had been waiting for him.
His fingers trembled as he fished the keys from his pocket. The metal was colder than it should be, even in the crisp mountain air.
The moment he stepped inside, the familiar scent of cedarwood and rosemary wrapped around him. His breath hitched.
But then—
A creak.
From upstairs.
Noah’s chest tightened. He had locked this house before leaving. Nobody was supposed to be here.
He took a slow step forward, the floorboards groaning beneath his weight.
And then—
From the second-floor balcony, where the glass doors stood slightly ajar, a shadow moved.
A whisper followed.
Soft. Almost loving.
“You came back.”
