Twenty Nine

We escaped in the middle of the night. I hadn’t even packed a bag. I wasn’t thinking about clothes or food or anything like that. All I could think about was getting away, getting somewhere safe. Arthur didn’t say a word when he told me to get in the car. His face was tense, his jaw clenched. I didn’t ask questions. I trusted him. We drove for what felt like hours, the city lights fading into the distance until all I could see were trees and the empty road ahead.

The further we got from Lisbon, the more I could breathe. It was like the tension slowly melted off my shoulders, and I could finally think. But even then, my thoughts kept drifting back to everything we were leaving behind. The media, the threats, the constant fear—it was too much. But what choice did we have? We had to get out, to find some place where we could be alone, where no one could find us.

After what felt like forever, Arthur finally pulled the car off the road. We drove down a long, narrow path that led deep into