REINA

The apartment felt like a tomb after Paolo left.

Hours dragged by in heavy silence. His ghost refused to leave, the deep dent in the couch where he had sat, the half-empty glass still sweating on the counter, and that warm, masculine scent of his cologne clinging stubbornly to the air like a lover who wouldn’t say goodbye.

He still hadn’t come back.

But he had called twice.

The first call was sharp and paranoid.

“Did you lock the door?” No greeting, just immediate demand.

“Yes, Paolo.”

“Deadbolt too?”

“Yes.”

“Windows?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Should I barricade the chimney while I’m at it?”

“I’m serious,...