Chapter 10

When Darren pushed open the front door, the living room was pitch black. Out of habit, he called out, "Kayla, lights." There was no response. He froze for a beat, then frowned and reached for the switch himself. The moment the lights flicked on, the realization finally hit him—Kayla wasn't here anymore. He loosened his tie, tossed his coat carelessly on the couch, and walked into the kitchen. The fridge was nearly empty. There was no homemade chicken broth that Beatrice used to keep stocked, and none of the late-night leftovers Kayla would sometimes leave for him. He pulled out his phone to order takeout, hesitated, then put it down again. Back then, if he ever said he was hungry, Kayla would quietly get up and head to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, she would set a steaming plate of pasta in front of him. Now, no one was there to cook. "Darren!" Winona's voice echoed from upstairs, each click of her heels on the hardwood floor grating and sharp. She rushed down the stairs wi