Sara Ikari Rodriguez
The last of the guests had gone.
The lights were dimmed, the ballroom now empty save for a few servers collecting champagne flutes and Maria thanking the staff
for their work. Music still played softly from the grand piano in the corner—a playlist meant to fade out as the evening ended.
But it didn’t fade.
It slowed. Shifted.
A gentle, old jazz song began to play, warm and slow and full of the kind of longing that didn’t need lyrics.
I stood near one of the tall windows, barefoot now, heels discarded long ago. My feet ached. My back was stiff. My face hurt from
smiling.
But my heart was… calm.
I didn’t expect him to come find me again. I thought he’d be in some room, unwinding, pouring himself a quiet drink.
Instead, Matio walked toward me, jacket gone, sl
