The cool evening breeze brushed against my skin, carrying with it the faint, intoxicating scent of blooming jasmine from the sprawling gardens. Under different circumstances, I might have found it soothing—a gentle reminder of life’s small, persistent beauties.
But tonight, as on so many nights before, it felt like a mockery, a cruel juxtaposition to the chaos that had consumed my heart and mind. I sat on the cold, stone bench in the front yard of the De Luca mansion, my posture stiff and unyielding, my gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun dipped lower and lower into the earth.
The molten golden light bled slowly into fiery shades of crimson and violet, painting the sky in hues that should have been breathtaking. Yet even the beauty of the sunset, nature’s tender masterpiece, failed
