The first thing she noticed was the silence.
Eva stood in the entryway, keys still in her hand. The silence in the house felt different now.
“Callen?”
Her voice barely carried down the hallway.
No answer.
She moved through the house like a stranger, her own footsteps soft and hesitant on the hardwood floors.
In the kitchen, there were two glasses on the counter. One with lipstick smudged across the rim.
Her throat tightened.
Voices drifted from the living room. Callen’s low, careless and another, softer, too familiar.
Lena.
Eva stopped in the doorway.
There they were.
Callen seated on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through emails like it was just another Tuesday. Lena, curled up beside him, barefoot, glass of wine balanced in her fingers.
Lena looked up first, a slow, almost lazy smile spreading across her lips.
“Eva.” Her tone was smooth, syrupy sweet. “Didn’t know you were home.”
Eva’s chest tightened, but her voice came out steady.
“How long are you staying?”
Lena tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Just a few nights. Needed some time to…reconnect.”
Eva’s gaze shifted to Callen, waiting for him to speak. To clarify. To tell Lena this wasn’t her home.
But Callen didn’t even look up.
“Lena’s staying for a while,” he said, flat, dismissive. “Don’t make a scene, Eva.”
Her hands curled into fists at her sides.
Eva stared at Lena. “You left Callen, remember? Four years ago. On your wedding day.”
Lena’s smile didn’t waver.
“I got a little lost, that’s all. But I’m back now.” Her fingers brushed Callen’s sleeve lightly, like a claim.
Callen said nothing.
Eva felt something twist deep in her gut. A slow, sickening turn.
Days passed, and the house began to shift in small, insidious ways.
Her coffee mug? Gone. The blue blanket she curled up with? Replaced by a new one in Lena’s style. Her framed photo of Paris? Missing from the shelf.
Eva’s clothes, packed neatly into boxes and moved to the guest room without a word.
She tried to confront Callen, but he brushed her off every time.
“I’m busy.”
“Not now, Eva.”
“Can we not make this a thing?”
So she stopped asking.
But the worst part?
The part she hated herself for?
It wasn’t just that Callen ignored her now. It was that, weeks ago before Lena reappeared, he had touched her.
That night. One last time.
It had been quiet, awkward, obligatory. Not passion. Not love. Just a mechanical, half-hearted effort to pretend they were still a married couple.
She’d let herself believe, just for a moment, that maybe it meant something.
It hadn’t.
But it had left her with something she hadn’t expected.
The nausea hit hard that morning, sharp and sudden.
She barely made it to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her as she dropped to her knees in front of the toilet.
Her body heaved, bile rising hot in her throat.
She gagged, coughed, tears stinging her eyes. The sound of her own retching echoed off the marble, loud and awful.
Behind her, the bathroom door creaked open.
“Rough morning?”
Eva froze.
She turned her head slowly, wiping her mouth with a shaking hand.
Lena stood in the doorway, barefoot in one of Callen’s shirts, her arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.
“I’m fine,” Eva rasped, her voice hoarse.
Lena tilted her head, her gaze narrowing.
“You don’t look fine.”
Eva tried to stand, bracing herself against the sink. The world swayed. Her stomach twisted again, but she swallowed it down.
Lena stepped closer, her voice soft but laced with venom.
“Stress getting to you? Or is there something you’re not telling us?”
Eva’s heart jumped, cold and sharp.
“I said I’m fine,” she snapped, but it was too fast, too defensive.
Lena’s eyes glinted like a shark smelling blood.
“Oh,” she said, her voice dropping low, “it’s something, isn’t it?”
She moved past Eva, her gaze sweeping the bathroom. Her hand landed on the cabinet handle.
Eva’s breath hitched.
“Don’t.”
But it was too late.
Lena yanked the cabinet open, rifling through the towels until her fingers closed around the plastic stick tucked beneath them.
The test.
She pulled it out, holding it up like a prize.
“Well, well,” Lena whispered, her lips curling into a smile so cold it made Eva’s stomach turn.
Eva’s hands trembled.
“Give it to me.”
Lena’s gaze flicked to the test, then back to Eva, a dark gleam in her eyes as she backed away, looking carefully at the positive pregnancy test.
“Pregnant,” she said, almost a purr. “You’re pregnant.”
Her laughter bubbled up, sharp and ugly.
“Oh, Eva. You really thought this would save you, didn’t you?”
Eva’s voice cracked, desperate.
“Lena—”
Lena stepped back further, holding the test between them like a dagger as Eva followed, reaching outside the bathroom.
“You think a baby is going to make Callen love you? You think it’s going to change anything?”
“Please,” Eva choked, reaching for the test.
Lena yanked it back, her smile twisting into something crueler.
“You were always second best, Eva. Always the stand-in. The safe choice.”
Eva’s pulse roared in her ears. Her hands shook.
“You don’t belong here,” Lena hissed. Her voice was soft, lethal. “You never did.”
And then she shoved.
It wasn’t a hard push, just enough.
Eva’s foot slipped. Her arms flailed, fingers grabbing at air. The world tilted, sharp and fast, and then she was falling down the stairs rushing up like a jagged wave.
The impact slammed through her. Pain bloomed white-hot across her body.
She crumpled at the bottom, a sharp, strangled cry tearing from her throat.
Her vision blurred. The ceiling swam.
And the last thing she saw before the darkness took her was–
Blood.
Her breath hitched, ragged and broken.
No.
Her baby.
