The Quiet Aftermath

Dante

The morning was quiet, the kind of quiet that only came after a storm. The house awakened slowly—coffee brewing in the kitchen, the soft murmur of Cassian on the phone with someone, the creak of occasional footsteps down the hall. But my mind was preoccupied with one thing.

Vittoria.

I approached her door, the majority of the clothes in my hand heavier than they should be. She hadn't emerged