The night was heavy, the kind that pressed against the windows and hummed with silence.
Eve sat on the edge of the bed after her call with the Rodrigos. Kamila’s voice had trembled with relief when she heard Eve was safe, and Mitre had tried to sound cheerful, but Eve knew they could sense something was wrong. She’d smiled through the phone anyway, lied through her teeth.
“Everything’s fine,”
“They welcomed me back,”
“Don’t worry.”
She hung up before her voice cracked.
The room felt bigger after the call, emptier. The shadows in the corners seemed to breathe. She thought of the kitchen downstairs, of the untouched counters and polished marble, of the long hours she used to spend there trying to earn gratitude that never came.
For a fleeting second she imagined walking down, lighting
