Wednesday morning arrived dressed in silence, a silence so thick it felt almost hostile. I lay awake long before dawn, staring at the ceiling, counting the seconds as they passed. Sleep had refused me, chased away by the gnawing knowledge that Marco’s deadline had come.
Noon.
That single word hummed in my head like a curse.
I rose before the first rays of sun touched the curtains. My reflection in the mirror startled me—eyes hollow, skin pale, lips pressed into a line too tight to be called calm. I brushed my hair until it lay flat and lifeless, slid into a cream blouse, and buttoned it with fingers that shook despite my efforts to steady them. Each button fastened like a lock sealing me into a role I no longer recognized—dutiful wife, loyal daughter-in-law, respectable Mrs. Jonathan Ro
