Lia pov

The night stretched endlessly, heavy with expectation. The choice was finalized—they would depart. Yet being aware of that didn't simplify matters. If anything, it made the air appear denser, the silence seems more oppressive, and the burden of what followed to weigh heavily on each of them. Lia sat at the kitchen table; her hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had become cold. Opposite her, Luca toyed with the edge of a napkin, his expression vacant. Dante remained motionless by ...