“Oh,” she said. “You must be the realtor, right? My husband said you’d come to evaluate our apartment.”
My stomach dropped, but my face didn’t move.
“Yes,” I heard myself say. “That’s me.”
She stepped aside without suspicion. “Great. He’s in the shower. Feel free to look around.”
I walked in slowly, my heart hammering so hard I worried she’d hear it. Everything looked… lived in. Shoes by the couch that weren’t mine. A second toothbrush in the holder. Fresh flowers on the table—flowers Ethan had never once bought for me.
“Nice place,” I said, forcing a professional tone.
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