Chapter 4

I woke to sunlight streaming through the half-drawn curtains, casting golden rectangles across our bedroom floor. The space beside me was empty, the sheets cool to the touch. William had left early again—a pattern so familiar I barely registered the disappointment anymore.

I stretched and rose, padding across the hardwood floors to the bathroom. My morning ritual had become mechanical: shower, dress, coffee, puzzle piece. Forty-two pieces now formed the beginnings of the lighthouse image, a daily reminder of both hope and betrayal.

As I reached for my hairbrush on the bedside table, something caught my eye—a flash of color…