The lamp on the corner of the desk cast a narrow circle of light, leaving the board on the far wall in shadow. Arianne sat on the couch with reports spread across her lap, her eyes moving down a page she'd already read twice. The words weren't landing. Her attention kept drifting to the space beside her—the cushion she'd left empty, the reports stacked to one side, a gap she hadn't consciously made but hadn't filled either.
She heard his footsteps before the door opened. The sound carried up the stairs, through the hallway, reaching her before he did. Her hand paused on the page. Her breath held for half a second. She didn't look up—she made herself finish the line, mark where she stopped, let the paper settle. Then she lifted her head.
