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In its wake, it had pulled Felicity into a life she had not chosen. She had been content in Denver. It had been enough.

Clearbrook had stripped that lie bare.

Now she knew what she’d been missing.

What a life could look like when it was full, grounded.

Shared.

And that knowledge was its own kind of hell.

Because once you saw it, felt it, you couldn’t unsee it.

And she would never let herself have it.

*

It was with a sense of reluctance that she walked into Gertrude a week later. She’d volunteered for extra shifts — giving herself an excuse to avoid him — but that excuse only held for so long. And Ronan had asked for help tonight. Something to do with the support beams in the stripped-down bedroom upstairs. He had called a short while ago to say that he was delayed on a site, and told her to let herself in.

She did. With the key she had attached to her own set.

Crossing the living area, she placed the takeout on the large dresser, the paper bag rustling in the stillness.

The place felt different without him.

Quieter. Colder. Like a structure instead of a home.

She noticed it absently at first — a tear in the faded brocade wallpaper beside the dresser. Small. Easy to miss. But the color behind it caught her eye. Not plaster. Not backing paper.

Shades of green.

Curious, she reached for the loose edge, tugging gently. The paper peeled away with a dry, whispering sound, brittle with time.

More green emerged.

A mural?

With a careful touch, she pried another piece loose and pulled again. The tear widened, revealing a sweep of color. A hint of shading. A … field?

Her pulse picked up. She worked methodically, careful not to damage what lay beneath, peeling back sections in gentle moves.

Green gave way to blue. A sky.

She cleared more. A fence line appeared. Weathered posts, slightly uneven, stretching across the scene. Beyond it, the suggestion of rolling land. Wild grass. Movement implied in the way it bent.

A tree came into view, its branches reaching wide, leaves painted in layered greens that had somehow held their depth. The light in the scene — late afternoon, maybe — was caught in the edges, warm without being bright.

She stepped back, chest rising a little faster.

A whole piece of the wall uncovered.

No house. No people. Just land. Sky. Space.

The front door opened behind her.

She didn’t turn.

His footsteps slowed as they neared. “The hell?”