Tracing Her Ghost

THE GHOST OF MIJAS

~RAFAEL POV~

I don't sleep in the master suite anymore. The gold leaf on the ceiling and the vast, empty expanse of the Egyptian cotton sheets feel like an insult.

Instead, I live in her room. The one in the west wing.

I sat in the armchair by the window, the same one I had sat in when I watched her sleep after the basement.

The room was a museum of a woman who didn't want to be