Dante’s POV

The rest of the day crawled. Not because of silence, but because of how loud the silence felt. Every creak of the house, every car passing outside, every buzz from Alina’s phone—it all pressed against my skull like static.

Alina tried to mask it, but I knew her. She moved around the house with her blanket wrapped tight, like armor she couldn’t take off. She cleaned the counters twice, rearranged the books on the shelf, even sat down with her laptop before shutting it again without touching the keys.

Exhaustion hung off her shoulders, but so did a stubbornness I’d both cursed and adored.

By the time evening...