By the time Matthew got home, the night had already settled into something heavy and unmoving. The drive from the airport blurred into fragments—lights, turns, the low hum of the engine—but the moment the door clicked open, everything sharpened again. The house greeted him with silence. He stepped in, dropping his suitcase just inside the door, the dull thud echoing faintly across the room. His hand was already reaching for his phone before the door fully shut behind him. He pressed the call button. The line didn’t connect. His jaw tightened, his fingers pressing harder against the device as if that might force it through. “Ava,” he said under his breath, pacing forward into the sitting room. “Pick up.” He tried again, slower this time, watching the screen like it might change its mind. Still nothing. He exhaled, sharper now, his chest rising unevenly as he dragged a hand down his face. “She must have had a flat battery,” he muttered, the explanation forming quickly, settling
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