The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun, the curtains drawn back to let in the warm light. The light was golden, honeyed, spilling across the marble floor in wide, inviting pools. It caught the dust motes that floated in the air, turning them into tiny, dancing specks of gold.

The furniture was bathed in this warm glow—the dark wood of the coffee table, the deep burgundy of the sofa, the pale cream of the armchairs. The room felt peaceful, almost serene, a stark contrast to the chaos that churned beneath the surface of the lives lived within its walls.