Chapter 4 — Packing Away the Past

Logan

The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wooden floorboards under Logan’s boots. He stood in the middle of the living room, his hazel eyes scanning the cluttered space. Stacked boxes teetered precariously in one corner, while an assortment of items—an old lamp, a pile of neatly folded blankets, a mismatched set of mugs—lay scattered across every available surface. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, likely from a candle Mira had burned earlier, mixing with the faint mustiness of a house ready to be emptied. It was chaos—not disorderly, but layered with the weight of transition.