The house was quiet. You could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall as you stepped in to the dark living room.

It settled into your mind the moment you stepped inside. A suffocating silence and stillness that wrapped around you. No sound from the television, no rustling in the kitchen or bedroom. Just nothing.

You had just got back home from a mission that Simon didn’t join. You let your bag slide off your shoulder, landing on the floor with a thud. You glanced at the clock, 2:24 AM.

Simon wasn’t home. Where could he be this late? You had come home early to surprise him and he wasn’t even here.

Your legs felt heavy as you moved through the house, fingers hovering over the bedroom door. A hesitation that was new to you. You shouldn’t be hesitating, this was your home. Your bedroom. Your marriage.

But the moment you pushed the door open and stepped inside… you knew. The air was thick, carrying a scent that didn’t belong. Sweat and perfume, floral and delicate mixed with salt. It was lingering on the sheets, pillows, hanging in the space where Simon should have been.

The room spun, you had to steady yourself on the dresser; swallowing down nausea that rolled up your stomach. Heat surging through you. What did he do?

Then, the front door clicked open. The sound of boots being shifted off carelessly. You stepped back out into the living room, eyes connecting to his; panic flashing in his expression before he schooled it.

Simon was home.