Dante's pov

The evening breeze was chilly on his skin, yet Lia’s hand felt warm in his grasp. They strolled gradually, the town’s silence enveloping them. It was peculiar—how ordinary everything felt. No anxiety hiding in the background, no silent dangers looming above them. Only the sound of their feet on the sidewalk, the rare flicker of a distant porch light, the soft cadence of Lia’s breath next to him. Dante breathed out, looking at her. She appeared serene. After a prolonged ...