ELENA

I sat back down on the sofa, my fingers tightening slightly around the red package. The weight of it felt heavier now, like whatever was inside carried more than just material things—it carried a question. A question I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to.

I inhaled deeply, pressing my fingers against the edges of the paper. Slowly, carefully, I started peeling it away. The wrapping was smooth beneath my touch, almost delicate, as if whoever had packed it had taken their ...