CHRISTOF
My thoughts remained contemplative, as I walked into my exquisitely curated living room. The lighting was soft, security reduced to a hum in the background. With heavy steps, I made it up the stairs, and went straight to the bedroom.
Pepa was already in bed, still awake. She was scrolling on her phone, hair secured in a bonnet, face lit faintly by the screen. She looked up when I entered, smiling like she hadn’t spent the entire day being the emotional epicenter of my life.
“You’re late,” she said lightly.
“I know.”
I sat on the edge of the bed but didn’t lean back. My mind was still elsewhere, still across a table from Roman, still hearing his voice, still replaying the exact moment he’d asked me to secure him a date, as if I were some pimp.
I considered calling my men. I
