Echoes of My Second Wife

I had only stepped into the house for five minutes, and already, something felt off.

It wasn't the furniture-though some pieces were gone-or the wallpaper, which had been replaced by pale gray tones. No, it was something deeper, something that clung to the air like a secret being whispered behind closed doors.

The portrait of my mother, once proudly displayed above the fireplace, was missing.

I stood there, suitcase in hand, stunned and silently furious. The last time I was home-nearly a year ago-the painting was still there, the centerpiece of our family's history. Now, not even a nail remained.

"Ava!" my father's voice echoed down the staircase.

I turned just as he appeared at the landing, smiling broadly. He looked different-shaved, sharply dressed, standing taller than I remembered. I hadn't seen him look that alive since... well, since before Mom died.

Behind him descended a woman who seemed almost too graceful for this house. She wore a sleek cream-colored dress and a smile so polished it could've been part of her makeup.

She had the kind of beauty that demanded a second glance, but her eyes... they didn't smile with the rest of her face.

"You must be Ava," she said warmly, her hand extending. Her fingers were long and manicured, her voice soft with just the right amount of charm. "I've heard so much about you."

"Wish I could say the same," I muttered before I could stop myself, shaking her hand briefly. Her skin was cool to the touch.

My father laughed awkwardly. "Elena's been dying to meet you. We've both been looking forward to this weekend."

I didn't respond. My eyes kept flicking back to the fireplace. Elena followed my gaze.

"Oh," she said with a casual shrug. "The portrait was old. It didn't go with the new décor. I hope you don't mind."

Mind?

The word barely covered it.

"That portrait was of my mother," I said evenly, trying to keep my voice level. "It belonged to her."

"Well, of course," she replied, her smile frozen in place. "But it's just a picture. Your mother lives on in memory, not in outdated frames."

I opened my mouth, but my father cut in quickly. "Sweetheart, why don't you take Ava's bag up to the guest room? The blue one. I'll get us something to drink."

He kissed Elena on the cheek. She nodded, reaching for my suitcase, and carried it upstairs without looking back.

I stared after her. She hadn't asked where the guest room was. As if she already knew.

The guest room was barely recognizable. New linens. New curtains. No sign of the dusty books or the lavender sachets my mother always tucked under the pillows.

I dropped my handbag on the dresser and walked slowly to the window. From this angle, I could still see the garden-my mother's favorite place. But even that had changed. The rosebushes were gone, replaced with sterile white pebbles and modern sculpture pieces.

A part of me wanted to cry. Another part wanted to scream.

There was a soft knock on the door.

I turned. Elena stepped in, holding a glass of iced tea.

"I thought you might like something refreshing," she said, placing it on the side table. "You must be tired from the flight."

I gave her a tight smile. "Thanks."

There was a pause. She didn't leave.

"I know this must be hard for you," she began. "Losing a mother is never easy. I lost mine, too."

I looked at her closely. There was something in her tone-too smooth, too rehearsed.

"It's been less than two years," I said. "And you've changed everything about her home."

She tilted her head. "We're building something new. Your father needed peace. Closure."

"This house was her peace," I snapped.

Something flickered in her expression-just for a second-before she covered it with that same controlled smile.

"Well," she said, walking to the door, "I do hope we can be friends."

I watched her leave and close the door behind her.

Friends?

Not likely.

I sat down on the bed and took a deep breath. I wasn't here to start a war. But I was here to find out what was happening to my family.

Because in this house, everything may have looked new-but something old and ugly was lurking beneath the surface.

And I intended to uncover it.