The cottage door creaks closed behind Margo, leaving me alone with the dust and memories. Everything remains exactly as we left it - as if time stopped the moment we disappeared from this alternate life we built together. My fingers trace along the kitchen counter, cutting through the thick layer of dust to reveal the wood beneath.

There, by the kitchen doorway, are the height marks Quentin insisted on making for Teddy. I press my nail into the tallest line, remembering Quentin's pout when our son finally outgrew him. A bittersweet smile tugs at my lips before I swallow hard against the lump in my throat.

The hallway seems longer than I remember, each step heavier than the last until I reach the closed bedroom door. My hand hovers over the knob as a vivid memory flashes through my mind - Quentin laughing breathlessly as I pressed him against this door, our bodies tangled together, neither wanting to let go long enough to actually open it.

I close my eyes briefly before turning the knob and pushing the door open. Sunlight floods the room, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The bed isn't made - Quentin was always too lazy to bother with it. The sight brings a faint smile to my face as I step inside.

My gaze immediately falls on Teddy's old crib in the corner, now serving as storage for our forgotten treasures. With three quick strides, I'm standing before it, my hands gripping the top bar as memories wash over me - watching our sleeping child, terrified he might stop breathing, Quentin wrapping his arms around me in the middle of the night to whisper reassurances.

I lean down, digging through the contents until my fingers brush against something solid - the wooden box where we kept our letters. My heart races as I pull it free, the edges biting into my healing abdomen wound, but I barely notice the pain.

Carrying the box to the rocking chair, I settle in and stare at it for a long moment before flicking the simple clasp. Inside, dozens of letters fill the space - decades of words passed between us when we couldn't find the courage to speak them aloud. With trembling fingers, I lift the top letter, its edges cracked and dust gathering in the folds.