After parking the car, Carlo practically sprinted to Lyla’s apartment.
“Lyli, open the door. I need to talk to you,” he called, knocking on the door. But there was no response. He waited for a few minutes, and still, nothing.
“Lyla, open the door. I know you’re home!” His knocking turned into frantic pounding. With both hands pressed against the door, Carlo hung his head, unable to suppress the whirlwind of emotions churning inside him—anger, sorrow, pity, and an unbearable heartache.
It was only after learning the truth that Carlo began to understand Lyla’s unusual behavior. Her coldness, her tears, and her emotional outbursts—all stemmed from a wound that cut her to the bone. She had once been so proud, passionate, and brave—all the qualities that had drawn Carlo to her. But now, thos
