The Echo of a Broken Heart The key felt cold and heavy in Maya’s hand, a stark contrast to the summer heat. “Our new beginning,” Ben whispered, his arm around her as they pushed open the creaking door of the old Victorian house. It was a beautiful ruin, all peeling paint and overgrown gardens, but they saw only potential. The first week was a blur of paint samples and dust. The odd occurrences they dismissed as old-house quirks—a sudden chill in a sun-warmed room, the faint scent of roses where none grew, a door they’d left open found firmly shut. But the