Page 296 of The Professor's Wife

The lights were on.

I pulled into the driveway and stepped out. The scent of steak drifted through the air, rich and smoky. My heart liftedand my stomach growled. He was cooking. Probably barefoot in the kitchen, humming something catchy while he got our plates ready. I smiled, already picturing it.

But just as I reached the door, something shifted.

A chill ran through me. It felt sharp, sudden, like a thread pulled tight in my chest. I paused, hand hovering over the knob. The feeling reminded me of the butterfly earlier, how it had landed on my palm, how I’d felt something stir beneath the surface.

I shook it off.

Just nerves from a strange day.

Inside, the lounge room was quiet.

Too quiet.

My eyes caught rose petals straightaway. They trailed across the floor in a soft, deliberate path, leading out of the room and down the wide corridor toward the kitchen.

I smiled, though something about them felt strange. Tristan could be romantic, but not usually like this.

I followed them, heart fluttering, steps slow. The kitchen was warm, the sliding door to the backyard cracked open. The kitchen surfaces were cluttered with dishes, utensils, and the pan Tristan always used for steak. Candlelight flickered outside, drawing my attention and casting golden shadows across the patio.

I stepped out.

“Tristan?”

He didn’t answer.

The table was set. Candles. A folded envelope rested in the center. I reached for it, wondering what sweet words would be written.

“Tristan?” I called out again and I opened it. “Where—”

I pulled out a photo and froze, my heart speeding up.

It was my wedding photo. I blinked several times, waiting for my brain to register what I was seeing.

Me, Oliver, and Rowe.

But something was wrong.

Horribly wrong.

There were holes—cutouts where faces should be.

Rowe’s face was gone.

So was mine.

My blood turned to ice.

I looked up, scanning the backyard. The trees. The shadows. The silence.

Oliver was here.

A groan broke the stillness.

I turned toward the sound, heart pounding, feet moving before thought could catch up. Deeper into the yard, past the fruit trees, I found him.

Tristan.