The house did not feel abandoned.
It felt paused.
Lila Cole noticed it the moment she stepped through the tall iron gates the way the air seemed heavier inside, like it carried memories it refused to release.
Even the gravel beneath her shoes sounded too loud, as though she were disturbing something sacred.
She tightened her grip on her small bag.
This was just a job, she reminded herself.
Just a job.
But something in her chest whispered otherwise.
The front door opened before she could knock.
"Miss Cole?"
The woman standing there looked tired in a way sleep could not fix. Her smile was polite, but it carried strain
"Yes, ma," Lila replied.
"I'm Mrs. Wolfe. Please, come in."
The moment Lila crossed the threshold, the silence wrapped around her completely.
It was not the kind of silence she knew from her homethe early mornings before her mother woke, or the quiet moments after a long day. This silence was deeper. Heavier.
Final.
"Adrian is in the sitting room," Mrs. Wolfe said gently. "He… prefers minimal disturbance."
Lila nodded, though she wasn't sure what that meant.
Minimal disturbance.
As if a person could exist without being disturbed at all.
She followed the hallway slowly, her eyes catching fragments of a life that once moved freely photographs, awards, paintings.
So many paintings.
Bright ones.
Alive ones.
But here, in this moment, they felt like echoes.
He was sitting by the window.
Still.
Completely still.
For a second, Lila thought he might be asleep.
But then he spoke."Set it down anywhere."
His voice was low, even… empty in a way she couldn't quite explain.
Lila froze, the tray in her hands suddenly heavier.
"Anywhere?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," he replied. "I won't see it."
The words settled between them like something fragile and sharp.
Carefully, she placed the tray on the table.
"I'm Lila," she said after a moment.
No response.
Only the faint sound of wind brushing against the glass.
She glanced at him.
His face was turned toward the light, but his eyes…
They did not follow it.
They did not react.
They simply existed.
And in that moment, Lila understood
something no one had said out loud.
This house had not forgotten time.
Time had forgotten it.