The first thing Daniel heard when he opened his own front door was his mother trying not to cry.
Not sobbing.
Not calling his name.
Just a thin, trapped sound from the kitchen, the kind people make when they have already decided they are not allowed to need help.
Rain slid off his coat and tapped onto the marble floor.
His suitcase still had the Singapore tag looped around the handle, and his mouth tasted like burnt airport coffee and sleeplessness.
He had come home a day early.
That was the thing Vanessa had not planned for.
He had cut the final meeting short, taken the overnight flight, and imagined one quiet morning at home.
He thought he would surprise his mother with breakfast.
He thought he would surprise his fiancée with flowers.
