The sky had begun to dim, soft golds fading into the tender blue of dusk. The countryside always quieted at this hour — the hum of cicadas, a dog barking somewhere far off, the wind rustling through the trees.
Sofia stood by her small kitchen window, staring out at the garden she had tended for months. The lilies bent gently beneath the faint breeze, their white petals catching what little light was left. She'd watered them earlier, yet her hands still carried the faint scent of soil and green.
And yet, for all its calm, the air felt different tonight. Heavier. Alive.
She couldn't explain it — that pull in her chest, the way her skin prickled as though unseen eyes were on her. She'd felt it since the workers left that afternoon, since he left. The quiet beyond her walls wasn't just silence anymore; it was charged, trembling, full of something unnamed.
