He left

At midnight, a black car pulled up quietly in front of Francisco's mansion. The night was heavy with silence as Francisco stepped out, his face stern and filled with a quiet intensity. He walked up to the second floor, each step deliberate and slow, the weight of his thoughts bearing down on him.

The room was cloaked in darkness when he entered. Only the faint moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the bed where Hazel slept peacefully. Francisco moved toward her, his movements quiet, as if afraid to disturb the tranquility that surrounded her. He sat down beside her, his gaze locked onto her serene face.

For several minutes, he did nothing but watch her sleep. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, her expression calm, free of the worries that plagued him. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and gently touched her hair. His fingers slowly ran through her soft locks, and he felt a pang of something deep inside—something that felt like longing.

Franc