By the time Arianne reached the second floor, the house had already divided itself.
Not by sound. By distance.
What existed below stayed below. Movement, voices, the uneven rhythm of the evening — none of it followed her up the stairs. The air changed as she climbed, settling into something steadier, more contained. The higher she went, the less the house felt lived in, until the second level held only structure and silence.
She didn't slow down at the landing.
Her steps carried straight down the hallway. She passed the closed bedroom doors without looking at them. Her hand found the study handle — not hesitating, just arriving — and she pushed it open.
The study was cooler than the rest of the house. She'd always kept it that way. The lamp on the corner of the desk was on, throwing a low warm light that didn't reach the board on the far wall. That section stayed in partial shadow. She preferred it.
The door closed behind her.
