Chapter Twenty-Two

The pool sparkled under the faint glow of the backyard lights, its pristine surface rippling gently in the evening breeze. It was the one thing Jim insisted on maintaining, even though Sam and Rory barely used it anymore. For him, the pool was more than just a reminder of his old life—it was a lifeline.

Every night, after his mind refused to quiet and the pool house felt too small, he swam. Lap after lap, he pushed his body through the water until exhaustion drowned out the noise in his head.

Tonight, though, he hadn’t made it that far.

The pool house—his makeshift studio and sanctuary—was stifling in a way that had nothing to do with the crisp winter air outside. Jim sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the heavy sheet draped over the clay sculpture in the corner.

He hadn’t touched it in da……