Danger sleeps beside me

Morning came quietly. Nani woke to the sound of Almaz humming in the kitchen, the same low melody she always used when she thought no one was listening. The apartment smelled like coffee and toasted bread, warm and familiar enough that Nani lay still for a moment, letting herself believe that this was all there would ever be. She padded down the hall in socked feet, hair still wrapped in a scarf from the night before. Almaz stood at the stove, curls loose and wild this morning, framing her face like they had a mind of their own. She wore a long cardigan over a simple dress, gold hoops catching the light when she turned. “You’re up early,” Almaz said, smiling without looking back. “You woke me up,” Nani replied. “You were singing.” Almaz laughed softly. “I was humming.” “It was definitely singing.” They moved around each other easily, a practiced dance born of years shared in small spaces. Almaz slid a plate toward her, eyes lingering just a second longer than usual. “You working late tonight?” she asked. “Probably,” Nani said. “Inventory’s been off all week.” Almaz nodded, then reached out and adjusted the scarf at Nani’s temple, fingers warm. “Text me when you’re on your way home.” Nani hesitated. “You okay?” Almaz’s hand stilled. “I’m always okay,” she said, gently but firmly. “Worry about yourself.” The words were familiar. The tone wasn’t. Nani studied her mother for a moment longer, then let it go. She kissed Almaz’s cheek before grabbing her bag. “Love you.” Almaz’s voice followed her to the door. “I know.” ⸻ The day passed like any other. Work was loud, fluorescent, painfully normal. Customers complained. Coworkers joked. Nani stocked shelves and answered emails and checked her phone too often for no real reason. She texted Almaz on her lunch break. Nani: You eat yet? No reply. Mid-afternoon. Nani: Don’t forget your appointment Still nothing. By the time her shift ended, the sky had darkened, clouds heavy with rain. Nani’s chest felt tight, though she couldn’t have said why. Nani: I’m heading home The message stayed unread. She stood under the awning outside her job, rain tapping against the pavement, phone glowing in her hand. Her mother always replied. Always. She’s probably asleep, Nani told herself. The walk home felt longer than usual. The building looked the same — tired brick, flickering hallway light — but something in her stomach twisted as she climbed the stairs. The door was unlocked. “Nana?” she called. No answer. The apartment was silent. Too silent. She found her mother in the living room. Almaz lay on the floor, one arm bent beneath her, curls spread like a dark halo. Her eyes were open, unseeing. Nani dropped to her knees. “No,” she whispered. The necklace Almaz never removed lay broken beside her, the chain snapped clean through. Outside, thunder rolled. And the last ordinary day ended.