The gravel crunched beneath my tires as I pulled up to the villa. The gates had opened easily, too easily, and that should’ve been my first sign that something was wrong.

But I ignored it. I needed to believe she was here.

The sun was just beginning to dip below the trees, staining the driveway in gold and shadow. Her car wasn’t there. The flower pots she used to fuss over stood dry, the blooms wilted. Curtains were drawn, shutters half-closed. The house looked… asleep.

I told myself that ...