Lucille

With my mistress at my side, we rode the two hours to Molave City in silence. My thoughts were stirred, and my emotions scattered like particles in a cyclone. The tears I’d shed in Roman’s bedchamber were dried, my makeup reapplied, and my mask in place.

As our cars neared the southern capital, the gray sky began to break, offering fractured glimpses of light blue. And yet my emotions were far from brightening.

It ...