Sara Ikari Rodriguez:
The morning of the gala felt unreal.
Not glamorous.
Not exciting.
Just… heavy.
Not because of the event—
But because of the distance, Matio kept around himself like armor.
He wasn’t cold.
He wasn’t rude.
He wasn’t sharp-tongued like before.
He was worse.
Silent. Controlled. Careful.
Almost like he was trying not to touch me.
Not to look at me too long.
Not to let anything slip.
I told myself it was stress.
Pressure.
Work.
But some part of me whispered:
He’s pulling away again.
And that hurt more than I wanted to admit.
Matio Rodriguez
She sat at the breakfast counter, stirring her tea with slow circles. Her hair was tied loosely, a strand falling over her cheek.
She looked soft.
Warm.
Reachable.
Dangerous.
I forced my gaze away.
Samir’s war
