The late afternoon sunlight spilled softly through the thin curtains of Elena’s living room, drawing long golden lines across the floor—lines that trembled faintly each time the breeze pressed against the windows. The house felt strangely quiet, but not with the emptiness of grief. Today, it was the quiet of anticipation. Of a heart beating fast behind a closed bedroom door. Of steps pacing restlessly. Of breaths that refused to come steady.

Andrei stood hugging Elena longer than expected. ...