MasukTHIRD PERSON.Marco sat in the living room with a glass he hadn’t touched in a long time. The house felt heavy, the kind of quiet that pressed on the walls. No staff moved around. Tony had left earlier. Everything in the place looked untouched, like the whole house had paused with him.He leaned back on the couch, staring at the drink without lifting it. His face looked tired. His mind was still stuck between the missing shipments, the lies in the logs, and the way Sarah’s side of the bed looked when he got home. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t eaten. He just sat there, breathing through the weight on his chest.The bell rang once.He frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Before he could move, he heard the door open. Only one kind of person walked into his house like it was hers.Sofia stepped inside with a small smile, holding a takeout bag from a place he liked. The smell reached the room before she did. She walked in like she knew exactly where he’d be.“There you are,” she said as she s
MARCOI pushed the office door shut behind me close to midnight. My head felt heavy and my eyes burned from staring at papers all day. Hours of calls, questions, lies, half truths. All of it sat on my shoulders like extra weight. I didn’t even bother turning on the radio in the car. I just drove home in silence, thinking through every route, every missing minute, every name that didn’t sit right.But the moment I stepped into the house, the silence hit harder.It wasn’t the normal kind. It was the kind that reminded me something wasn’t right. Something was missing. Someone.I locked the door and stood there for a moment, looking at the empty hallway. No soft steps. No faint humming. No light under the bedroom door. Just still air.I placed my keys on the table and walked in without turning on the lights. I knew the way. My feet carried me straight to the room like they were used to following her scent, her warmth, her presence.When I pushed the bedroom door open, the quiet grew loude
MARCOI sat in my office early in the morning, the kind of morning where my head felt tight and the air felt heavy. The reports were spread out in front of me, page after page, forming a mess I could not ignore anymore. I rubbed my eyes once, took a slow breath, and forced myself to start reading from the top.Line by line. Number by number. Time by time.No rush. No skipping.At first it looked like the same useless paperwork I had seen for weeks, but the more I read, the more small things started to stick out. Things I had missed before. Things that shouldn’t have matched so neatly.The first missing shipment.The second.The third.All gone on routes that never had a damn problem in the past. Routes that ran clean for years. Routes handled by people I trusted. Routes that were known only to a small circle inside the system.I leaned back and stared at the map on the wall. Nothing made sense. No enemy should know these routes this well. Not unless someone fed them the details.I wen
MARCOMorning hit me hard. My head felt heavy, my eyes burned, and my whole body carried the weight of a night without real sleep. I sat at my desk, reached for my coffee, and before the cup even touched my mouth, my private phone vibrated.I checked the caller ID. One of my main suppliers.I picked up.Marco, listen, the man said, his voice shaky in a way he tried to hide. We can’t move anything for you this week.I closed my eyes for a second. Why?Too risky. After those missing shipments, our drivers are scared. They don’t want to be anywhere near your routes till things calm down.I swallowed back my irritation. We’ve worked together for years. You know my word holds. I’ll secure the routes.He hesitated. Marco… it’s not about you. It’s the streets. People are talking. There’s heat around anything linked to you right now. My boys don’t want to walk into fire.I held the bridge of my nose, trying not to let it show in my voice. Give me a few days. I’ll fix this.I’m sorry, Marco. I
SARAHI woke up with my face stuck to the pillow. My eyes hurt, my throat felt dry, and my whole head felt heavy. I knew why. I cried myself to sleep last night. I cried till I had nothing left. Now everything was quiet, too quiet, and the silence made my chest feel tight again. My father’s house was always peaceful, but today it felt like the walls were holding their breath with me.I rolled to my side and looked at my phone. It was right there beside me, screen dark, no missed calls, no messages, nothing. I waited through the night. I kept hoping he would call, or at least send something small, anything that showed he cared enough to reach for me. But there was nothing. I refused to text him first. I refused to beg again. My chest ached each time I thought of his face from that fight, the way he looked at me, the words he used, the tone he used. I tried not to replay it, but it came back over and over like a wound that kept reopening.A soft knock came at the door and my dad walked
SOFIAI waited in the hallway after everyone rushed out of the meeting room. People walked past me fast, their steps loud, their faces tight with fear. Marco had shaken them, and they were desperate to get out of his sight. I held my tablet in my hands and pretended to work, tapping a few things, scrolling without reading. I was not paying attention to anything on the screen. My eyes stayed on Marco’s office door.He had walked out of the room without looking at any of us, his shoulders tense, his jaw set in a way I had not seen in a long time. Something was wrong. Not just business. Something deeper. Something that had nothing to do with missing trucks or dead captains. I could see it in the way he stood, the way he rubbed his forehead, the way his voice had cracked just a little when he dismissed everyone.That was private pain. And private pain always created room if you knew where to step.I waited until the building grew quiet. The staff went back to their corners, the managers w







