The heavy oak door clanged shut behind Viktor, the sound echoing through the cavernous emptiness of the house. He didn't bother opening the windows, the early morning sunlight filtering through the opened door was enough to guide him to Celeste's room.
Pushing open the familiar door, a fresh wave of grief slammed into him. Her bed lay untouched, the scent of lavender and wildflowers, her signature, hanging heavy in the air. He stumbled towards her dressing table, his hand coming to rest on a simple blue dress draped over a chair. The fabric felt cool under his fingertips, a stark contrast to the inferno raging within him.
