Chapter 5

They returned home much later that night.

The house was quiet in a way Henry had never noticed before. Not the peaceful kind of quiet that came with rest, but the uncomfortable one that made a place feel empty even when the lights were on. The front door closed behind them, the sound echoing slightly, as though the walls themselves were listening.

Mrs. Willis stood in the living room.

She was the only one there.

Henry walked in first, loosening his tie absentmindedly. Out of habit, without even looking, he slipped his coat off his shoulders and stretched it out to the side.

For years, that single movement had been enough. Diana would always be there. Always waiting. Always ready to take it from him, no matter how late he returned or how cold his greeting was.

But tonight, nothing happened.

His hand remained in the air for a brief moment. He frowned slightly, confused, then turned and draped the coat over the back of a chair himself. The action felt strange, unfinished, like something was missing.

He noticed it, but he didn’t dwell on it.

Selena noticed it immediately.

She stood still, her small eyes scanning the living room as though expecting her mother to appear from behind a door or from the hallway.

Usually, Diana’s voice would already be calling out to her, asking how her day went, reminding her to wash her hands, smiling even when she was tired.

Tonight, there was nothing.

No voice.

No footsteps.

No familiar warmth.

Selena’s eyes moved to the small table beside the couch. It was empty. No glass. No straw. No milkshake.

Her face crumpled slightly.

“Daddy,” she said, her voice smaller now, tugging gently at Henry’s sleeve. “Where’s Mommy?”

Henry glanced around, then sighed. “She’s probably tired and went to bed early,” he said, though there was uncertainty in his tone.

Selena shook her head. “Mommy doesn’t sleep early,” she insisted. “And she always makes my strawberry milkshake at this time.”

She paused, then added stubbornly, “I want one now.”

Henry hesitated. He opened his mouth to dismiss it, then stopped. He had never made her milkshake before. He had never needed to. Diana always did it, quietly, without reminding anyone.

He moved closer to Selena and rested his hand on her shoulder. “We can go wake her up if you want,” he said.

Mrs. Willis cleared her throat.

Henry turned towards her, properly noticing her expression for the first time. She looked worried. Her eyes were slightly red, as though she had been holding back tears.

In her hands, she clutched an envelope tightly, like something fragile she was afraid to drop.

“Sir,” she began carefully, “I know it’s not my place to say anything, but Mrs. Golding has been very devoted to this family.”

Henry frowned. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice flat.

Mrs. Willis swallowed. “Today…” She paused, her voice trembling. “Today broke her.”

Henry scoffed lightly, unimpressed. “That’s dramatic,” he said. “Diana is always emotional.”

Mrs. Willis shook her head slowly. “Mr. Golding, you know how much she cares for you. For Selena. For this house.”

Something shifted.

Henry felt it before he understood it.

Memories surfaced suddenly, uninvited, crashing into his mind one after another.

He remembered coming home late almost every night, exhausted and irritated. He would push the door open, toss his coat towards Diana without even looking at her face, and walk past. She always caught it. Always. Even when he didn’t acknowledge her greeting. Even when he acted like she was part of the furniture.

Yet she never complained.

He remembered the countless evenings he fell asleep on the couch, drained from work. He would wake up hours later to find his shoes removed, his coat folded neatly, a blanket tucked carefully around him. He never asked who did it. He never thanked her.

He remembered the night he was seriously ill, coughing uncontrollably in bed. Diana had moved closer, her hand reaching for his forehead.

“Don’t touch me,” he had snapped. “Are you trying to drug me again?”

The memory tightened his chest.

She had gasped softly, fear flashing across her face. “You’re burning up,” she had said.

He remembered how she helped him out of the house, his body weak, his steps dragging. He had leaned heavily on her without thinking.

“Where… where are you taking me?” he had asked.

“The hospital,” she had replied without hesitation.

Henry swallowed.

The living room felt smaller now. Quieter.

He looked back at Mrs. Willis, who had stopped speaking, as though she had said enough.

“She asked me to give you this before she left tonight,” Mrs. Willis said quietly, stretching the envelope towards him.

Henry frowned and took it. “It’s your signed copy,” she added softly.

He stared at the envelope, confusion creeping in. His fingers tightened around it as he turned it over slowly, trying to make sense of her words.

“What do you mean she left?” he asked, his voice lower now as he began to open the envelope.

Mrs. Willis lowered her head, unable to answer.

Henry pulled the file out slowly, as though preparing himself for whatever was inside.