LOGINAugust was already in his room, wrapped in his dinosaur sheets, the T-Rex stuffed animal hugged against his chest. Matilda said goodnight with a smile, closing the door behind her with a soft click.The master bedroom was empty.For a moment I thought she was in the bathroom. But the bathroom was empty too, the lights off, the towels neatly folded.I went to the veranda. She was there.Aurora was leaning against the glass railing, her short hair swaying in the sea breeze. She wore a light white dress that shimmered under the moonlight. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes fixed on the dark horizon.I approached slowly, my steps silent on the wooden floor. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t need to. She knew it was me.“It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice low, almost a whisper. “The sea at night. It looks like an endless sheet.”I hugged her from behind, wrapping my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder.“You’re more beautiful.”“Liar.”“Truth.”She laughed—
The house revealed itself little by little, like a shy lover who shows each inch of skin with calculated hesitation.Every room I opened was a new layer of memories I had built alone, in the years when I believed I would never see Aurora again. And now, seeing her there, touching the furniture I had chosen, opening the doors I had ordered installed, breathing the air I had imagined for her… it was a satisfaction so deep it hurt.“This is the living room,” I said, pushing open the glass doors that led to the deck. “The walls open completely. It integrates with the veranda.”August was already running ahead, his bare feet sliding on the light wooden floor. He stopped in front of the infinity pool that blended with the ocean beyond, and his eyes widened.“Mommy! Look! The pool turned into the sea!”“It’s the infinity edge effect, my love,” Aurora explained, her voice soft, her eyes shining. “The water stretches until it meets the horizon.”“Can I swim?”“Tomorrow.”He huffed but didn’t c
Paraty was more beautiful than the pictures in the magazine.The jet landed at a private airport on the outskirts of the city, and a black car was waiting for us. Tristan helped August down—the boy was more awake now, his eyes wide at the green mountains, the blue sky, the hot and humid air coming through the open windows.“Mommy, where are we?” he asked, his voice small and amazed.“In Brazil, my love.”“Is it far?” he wanted to know.“Very far.”“Are we going to stay here?”“We are.”He smiled—that gap-toothed smile—and nestled into Tristan’s lap.The car traveled along winding roads lined with Atlantic forest, the tall trees forming a green tunnel over us. The sea appeared from time to time, turquoise blue, shining under the afternoon sun.Green islands dotted the horizon, and imposing mountains rose in the background, covered in mist.“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, more to myself than to anyone.“It is,” Tristan agreed, his voice low.The car passed through a stone gate, and a hou
The scissors slid through my hair with a dry, precise, almost surgical sound. Edda, who had revealed herself to be a surprisingly skilled hairstylist, worked in silence, her eyes fixed on the strands that fell to the bathroom floor like dark shadows.“Are you sure?” she asked for the second time. “It’s a drastic cut.”“I am.”“It will take years to grow back.”“If I want, I’ll let it grow. Right now, I need to disappear. And long hair draws attention.”Edda didn’t insist. She simply continued cutting, the tips of her cold fingers against my nape.When she finished, I looked in the mirror.The woman staring back at me was unrecognizable. Short hair, chin-length, black as night. My eyes, once light, seemed darker with the contrast. My cheekbones, more defined. My mouth, fuller.Who are you? I whispered to the mirror.“Aurora,” Edda answered, as if it were obvious. “Just a different version.”“A version no one will recognize.”“That’s the idea.”I ran my hand through the short strands, f
The dinner was simple—pasta with tomato sauce and grated cheese, because it was what August would eat without complaining. We ate at the kitchen table, the three of us together, like a normal family. As if there weren’t a Cassius out there, with his men and his weapons, searching every city for us.“Dad,” August said, fork suspended in the air. “After we dyed our hair, do I still look like me?”“You do. Just with lighter hair.”“And Mommy?”“Mommy looks like Mommy. With different hair.”“And you?”“I look like me.”He looked at me for a moment.“You look younger.”Aurora laughed.“It’s the brown hair. It takes a few years off.”“He doesn’t need to look younger. He needs to look more alive.”Silence fell over the table. August, oblivious to the depth of his own phrase, went back to twirling the pasta on his fork.…Later, when August was already in bed and the house was quiet, Aurora picked up the phone. The number wasn’t saved in the contacts—she typed it from memory, as if it were a
The afternoon light came through the living room window, golden and soft, spreading across the wooden floor. The farm in Hamburg was silent—not the oppressive silence of the Delyon mansion, but the cozy quiet of a place that had never been designed to hold secrets or shelter monsters.I was sitting on the living room floor, my back against the sofa, legs stretched out over the fluffy rug. August was in front of me, focused on assembling a dinosaur puzzle that someone—probably Edda, with her silent efficiency—had provided.The colorful pieces were scattered between us like a minefield of loose ends.“Dad, where’s the T-Rex head?” August asked, his eyes scanning the pile of pieces in front of him.“You’re holding it in your hand.”He looked at the piece he was holding, then at me, and smiled—a gap-toothed smile, because the two front teeth had fallen out the week before, and he was in a phase of laughing while showing the hole.“Found it!”“Good job.”My head was wrapped in a plastic ca







