The rain had not stopped for hours. It tapped relentlessly on the windows of Alyssa’s gallery, a soft but ceaseless drumming that mirrored the storm tightening inside her chest. She stayed late again, sorting through shipments alone, hoping the silence would distract her. It didn’t. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the name she discovered earlier:

M. Hartono.

Maya’s name.

Maya’s shadow.

But tonight, it wasn’t Maya who appeared at her door.

The soft creak echoed through the empty gallery as she turned, her breath catching.

Rafael stood there.

Rain clung to his coat, dripping onto the wooden floors. His hair was damp, his expression unreadable — but...