CHRISTOF
I wasn’t a man who marked dates. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries. They usually blurred into a single, unremarkable line in my mind. Sentimental milestones, those were luxuries for men with uncomplicated lives. Men with clean hands.
But Pepa changed that. She made everything worth celebrating.
I woke before dawn, not because of a meeting or a crisis, because my mind drifted to her. To the way she curled into my side in her sleep, stealing warmth like she owned it. To the way she laughed, bright and reckless. The way she made noise everywhere she went, on purpose, like silence offended her.
God, I loved her. A dangerous kind of love, the kind that rearranged a man. I saw her in a way that nobody else does. They look at her and see the vlogger, the influencer, the woman who
