The house stood silent now. Once filled with warmth, the echoes of laughter had faded, replaced by a heavy stillness. Daniel stepped inside, his footsteps hesitant as if the walls themselves were watching. The air smelled of dust and something faintly familiar—his mother’s old lavender perfume, lingering despite the years.
He had promised himself he wouldn’t return. Not after the funeral. Not after burying the last piece of the family he once had. But here he was, standing in the living room where time had stopped. The old couch, the scratched wooden floor, the faded pictures on the walls—they were all the same. And yet, everything felt wrong.
His eyes landed on the grand piano in the corner, its keys untouched for years. He could almost hear his sister, Emily, playing softly, her fingers dancing over the ivory keys as their mother hummed along. He remembered how they used to gather here every Sunday evening, their father pretending to conduct an imaginary orchestra, making Emily laugh until she could barely play.
But the music had stopped a long time ago.
Daniel walked toward the piano, running his fingers across the keys. The notes felt cold, lifeless. He pressed down gently, and a single broken sound filled the air, cracking through the silence like a whisper of the past.
His mind drifted back to that night. The storm had raged outside, rain pounding against the windows. Emily had gone out, promising she’d be back soon. She never returned. The car accident stole her away, leaving behind only a silence that had never been filled. Their mother had never sung again. Their father had never conducted another imaginary orchestra. And Daniel—Daniel had stopped coming home.
He clenched his fists, blinking away the sting in his eyes.
This house was a graveyard of memories. Every room held a ghost of the past, and every shadow whispered a name he could no longer say out loud.
With a deep breath, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. The one to the front door.
He placed it on top of the piano, a quiet farewell.
As he stepped outside, the wind carried the distant sound of laughter—not real, just a memory. But for the first time in years, Daniel let it linger before walking away, leaving the house, and the past, behind.
