Sera’s POV
Saturday starts quietly.
The dorm feels different without his messages lighting up my phone every hour. Marisol’s out early for a study group, so it’s just me, my coffee, and the faint hum of the heater.
I try to read. I really do. But the words slide off the page and disappear somewhere between one paragraph and the next.
The last text I got from Dante came at eight this morning.
Heading to the house. Wish me luck.
I sent back, You don’t need luck just patience.
He reacted with a thumbs-up emoji. That was it.
It’s almost noon now.
I keep glancing at my phone like that’s going to make it vibrate. It doesn’t. I get up, pace, sit again, scroll through old messages. He once told me that his father’s house is on the edge of the city, a huge place with cameras and tall gates
