About forty minutes later, Luara's car stopped in front of the house she had sworn never to visit again. The engine was still humming when she stood motionless for a few seconds, staring through the windshield as if the past were painted there. That place had once been a home. It had once been filled with laughter, promises, and the warmth of a man she believed to be her destiny. Now, it seemed like nothing more than a tomb with walls.

The memories came without permission: the smell of ...