~ELENA

As still as a tomb.

My parents house, the mansion I grew up in, the one whose blueprint I knew like the back of my hand.

The house that had always been filled with so much noise and chatter, that gave and received a lot of warmth.

It was cold now.

Cold. Silent. Empty.

Still, like a tomb.

I hated how silent it was.

Nostalgia pushed my chest inward, and the weight threatened to crush me. I wished for the days before I got married, days when my mother's laughter filled the ...