로그인Minutes after the first ruleDouro Valley villa, just before sunriseNo one spoke after that.Not for a long time.The screen just stayed there, frozen on that last frameSofia in my arms, her face soft and calm and completely unaware.Like none of this existed for her.Like she was the only real thing left in the room.Don’t leave the house.The words didn’t go away.They didn’t fade.They just… stayed there.Like they were burned into the screen.Into my head.I kept staring at them even when my eyes started to hurt.Even when I blinked.Because every time I blinked, I still saw them anyway.We’re not staying, I said finally.My voice sounded wrong.Too quiet.Too thin.Like it didn’t belong in the room.Tomás didn’t answer.He was still looking at the system, but not the message anymore. The logs. The connections. The things I didn’t understand and didn’t want to.we’re not staying,” I said again.Louder this time.Like that would make it more true.i heard you.Then say something.”I
Moments after the messageDouro Valley villa, just before sunriseNo one moved for a while.Not me.Not Tomás.Not even the screen.It just stayed there, glowing too bright in the dark, like it knew we were still looking at it. Like it was waiting for something or maybe enjoying itGood, You’re learning.I couldn’t stop reading it.Even when I tried to look away, my eyes kept going back.Again.And again.Like if I didn’t keep watching, something worse would happen. Like it would change when I wasn’t looking.Sofia shifted in my arms, just a small sound, soft and almost not there. It broke through everything else instantly. Like something snapping me back into my body.I adjusted my hold on her without thinking, rocking her gently. My body knew what to do even if my head didn’t. Even if my thoughts were going everywhere at once.“They’re still here,” I whispered.“I know.”Tomás didn’t look away from the screen.Not even for a second.“How?” I asked. “How are they still connected?”He
Thirty minutes after the red lightDouro Valley villa, before sunriseNo one said it not out loud.But neither of us turned the monitor off.Tomás set it down slowly, like if he moved too fast it might… react. Like it was something alive instead of just plastic and wires. The red light blinked againslow, steady and then stayed there.Watching.I didn’t move from the bassinet. My hand stayed on Sofia’s blanket, barely even touching it, but enough to feel something real. Something that wasn’t… whatever this was.“Unplug it,” I said quietly.Tomás didn’t move.Not yet.I looked at him properly then Why not?Because if something’s connected to it, he said, voice low, too calm, “I want to know what.”A cold feeling crept up my spine.that means leaving it on.It means not tipping them off.Them “the word just sat there between us.Not a glitch.Not an accident.Someone.I swallowed, suddenly too aware o
Two nights after the monitor stayed onDouro Valley villa, just before dawnThe first few nights didn’t feel real.Not like the drive to the clinic, which was all sharp edges and panic and noise. This was different. Slower. Heavier. Like time itself got tired and decided to move in pieces instead of straight lines. Everything was measured now feeds, breaths, the soft rise and fall of Sofia’s chest, the quiet static hum of the monitor that never really, fully turned off.I don’t even know what woke me.It wasn’t a sound.Not a cry.Just… something.Like my body knew before my brain did.The room was dim, that weird green glow from the monitor washing over everything, making it all feel unreal. The fire had burned out hours ago, but the smell was still there @sh and warm stone and something faintly sweet underneath it.Tomás was asleep beside me, one arm draped over my waist, loose but still there. Even in sleep, he didn’t let go compl
Four days after that parking-lot chaosDouro Valley villa the night we brought her homeLabor didn’t ease in gently it slammed into me.One moment I was in the kitchen, barefoot, stealing bites of toast and pretending I still had control over my own body. The next, everything changed. Water on the floor. My breath catching. Tomás moving faster than I’d ever seen him move hands steady even when his voice wasn’t.The drive to the clinic in Pinhão blurred into flashes: his grip on the steering wheel, the way he kept glancing at me like I might disappear, the sharp rhythm of pain that took over everything else.The birth itself felt like it belonged to someone else. Time stretched and snapped and twisted. There was noise mine, mostly ihis voice grounding me, refusing to let me drift too far. And then suddenlyA cry.Loud. Fierce. Alive.They placed her on my chest, and everything else fell away. The room, the pain, the hours before it all shrank down
Three weeks after the festivalDouro Valley, late summer nine months and countingI had reached the point where walking felt like a slow negotiation with gravity. Every step took effort, every movement deliberate. The weight of the baby sat low now, impossible to ignore, shaping the way I carried myself, the way people looked at me, the way Tomás looked at me most of all.He noticed everything.The way I paused before standing. The way my hand drifted instinctively to my belly. The way I shifted when the baby moved. His touch followed those moments steady, grounding, almost reverent. Like he was memorizing it.We went out that evening anyway. One last quiet dinner before everything changed.The restaurant in Pinhão was small and warm, tucked near the river, filled with soft conversation and the clink of glasses. To anyone watching, we were just another couple finishing a late summer meal. But under the table, his hand rested on my knee, his thumb moving
The city swallowed us at 7:14 a.m., gray light bleeding across the skyline like a bruise that hadn’t decided what color it wanted to be. Everything looked tender. Raw. Buildings hunched against the cold dawn, windows reflecting a sky that couldn’t quite commit to morning.Julian didn’t take us to t
The motel bathroom light wouldn’t stop flickering.Not dramatic. Not horrorbmovie dramatic. Just cheap wiring and a bulb that needed replacing. Still, the uneven yellow light made everything look wrong. Sick. Washed out.I stood in front of the mirror, gripping the edges of
The cabin smelled of wet cedar and pine smoke. The wood stove crackled low, throwing orange flickers across the rough-hewn walls. Outside, the Gorge wind howled through the trees, rattling the single-pane windows, but inside the air felt thick, charged, like the moment before lightn
The Greyhound from Portland to Chicago took twenty-nine hours and change.Time on a long-distance bus stretches in strange ways. Hours blur into one another until the road itself feels endless just a ribbon of dark highway under dim headlights, rest-stop signs glowing in the distance, and the stead







