LOGINSARAHThe kitchen was already warm when I came in. Martha had been up for a while, her sleeves rolled to her elbows, a knife moving fast through a pile of vegetables. The scent of herbs, garlic, and simmering tomato filled the air. I tied an apron and joined her, wordless, my thoughts too heavy to trust my voice.“You’re quiet today,” Martha said after a while. Her tone was light, but her eyes didn’t miss much.“Just thinking,” I said, stirring the sauce. The wooden spoon trembled slightly in my hand. My mind kept circling back to Maddalena’s words from earlier, that sharp voice in the living room, her warning that I didn’t belong here. That Sofia was the better choice. I could still see her smirk when I told her I wouldn’t lose.Martha dropped the vegetables into a pot and gave me a side look. “Thinking about the boss?”I almost smiled. “You mean Marco?”“Who else?” She shrugged, turning to the stove. “Word is he’s being discharged this evening.”I froze. “He’s coming home today?”“T
SARAHThe house was quiet when I walked in, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel peaceful. The air was cold, heavy. My legs felt weak, and my mind was still caught between fear and exhaustion.Maddalena was waiting. She sat in the living room like a queen guarding her throne, arms crossed, eyes sharp enough to cut through the dark. I knew before she opened her mouth that she’d been waiting for me.“Where have you been?” Her voice was calm, but the calm that came before something dangerous.I swallowed and forced a small smile. “I went for air. Needed space.”Her head tilted, slow, deliberate. “At dawn? You think I’m blind?”I shrugged, pretending I didn’t care, though my heart was racing. “Believe what you want.”She stood up, every step closer tightening the air between us. “You’re reckless,” she said. “Marco doesn’t need a wife who disappears into the night. He needs stability. A woman who understands what it means to stand beside him. A woman like Sofia.”The name hit like a slap. So
SARAHThe first sound I heard was dripping. Slow, steady, hollow. Then a faint tap, like someone idly flicking a table. My head throbbed as I blinked my eyes open. Everything looked foggy at first, shapes melting together before settling into the dull color of an old diner. The same one. We were still here. The smell of dust and oil filled the air. I was lying on one of the benches, a jacket thrown over me like a blanket.Daniel sat across the room near the counter, scrolling through his phone. The glow from the screen lit his face. He didn’t even look at me when I moved.I tried to sit up, groaning softly. “What time is it?”He glanced up, bored. “Morning.”Morning. I couldn’t tell if that made things better or worse. I rubbed the side of my head where it still hurt. “You didn’t take me home.”“Wasn’t my call,” he said simply.I frowned. “Then whose call was it?”He didn’t answer. His thumb kept sliding across the phone screen, like I wasn’t even there. I was about to push him again
MARCOThe morning light crept through the blinds and brushed over my eyes before I was ready for it. My head still hurt, but the drugs had worn off enough to let the pain settle deep, steady, and real. The faint sound of traffic from outside mixed with the soft hum of machines in the room. Everything felt too quiet, too clean, too distant.Sofia sat by the window, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone like she was waiting for someone to tell her she belonged there. Her hair was tied back, and her heels rested neatly beside the chair. On the table near her, a tray of untouched breakfast sat cold.I stared at the ceiling for a while, trying not to think, but my mind didn’t listen. I saw Sarah’s face the moment she walked into the room last night. The hurt in her eyes. The disbelief. The silence that followed. Then her leaving. I hadn’t seen her since. No call. No message. Not even a word from home. Just the same echo of guilt sitting somewhere under my ribs.Sofia must have felt my
SARAHRain hit the glass in steady drops, the sound mixing with the hum of the car engine. The night was dark, the road almost empty, lights from passing cars flashing across the wet windshield. I sat quietly in the passenger seat, arms folded, still trying to understand how I ended up here.His hands stayed steady on the wheel. He drove with the kind of calm that didn’t match the weather. His voice came low, casual. “You live around here?”I wiped at my face with my sleeve. “Not really.”He nodded like he already knew that. “I’m Daniel.”“Sarah,” I said, voice flat.“Nice name,” he said. “Rough night?”“You could say that.”For a while, he said nothing. The wipers moved back and forth, cutting through the rain. Streetlights passed in flashes, showing his face for a moment at a time.. calm and a bit unreadable.“You from the city?” he asked.“Yeah.”He nodded again. “You look tired.”“I am.”“Work?”“No.”“Then what?”I didn’t answer. I wasn’t in the mood to share my life story with a
It was getting late. The lights in the corridor had dimmed to a soft yellow, the kind that made everything look tired. Nurses walked past in quiet pairs, their shoes whispering against the floor. The air smelled of coffee and disinfectant. Someone laughed faintly down the hall, and the sound made my chest tighten. The world kept moving while I sat there, waiting for something to change.Tony passed by a few minutes later, his jacket still on, eyes red like he hadn’t slept either. “He’s stable now,” he said quietly. “Still weak, but he’s fighting. You should rest, Sarah. It’s going to be a long night.”I nodded, even though I couldn’t. Resting felt wrong when Marco was lying in there, hurt, because of how we left things. I wanted to see him. Just see him breathing, hear his voice. Maybe he’d look at me the way he used to. Maybe not. I still needed to try.The hours dragged. I kept checking the clock, kept telling myself I’d wait until visiting hours ended, then go. But I didn’t move. M







