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3

SALMA

I sat there, staring at Juan, waiting for him to speak.

My heart was pounding in my chest, the weight of his words from the previous night still lingering in the air between us.

He hadn't told me everything—not yet.

He had stopped just short of revealing what I already feared, leaving me in the dark with more questions than answers.

That morning, I woke up with a sense of unease.

The wedding invitation, the trip, and the strange way Juan had been acting, it was all circling in my head.

But none of that compared to the storm I felt when I learned what came next.

Vito was back.

Juan hadn't told me directly.

He didn't need to.

I had overheard him on the phone, his voice low and tense as he spoke to someone.

He mentioned Vito's name, and I froze, the sound of it hitting me like a physical blow. 

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