“Something isn’t right. Please come as soon as you can.”
When I rang the doorbell, there was no answer. The door was slightly open, so I pushed it inward—and my breath caught.
Elena was sleeping on the doormat.
Curled up in worn, torn clothes. Hair matted. Hands filthy. She looked unrecognizable. This was my sister—the brilliant architect who had once abandoned her career for love.
From inside the house, I heard laughter and loud music. A man stepped into the hallway. Daniel. Her husband.
