LOGINTHIRD PERSONMarco had been home for a full week, and the days passed in slow, tense silence. He moved better now, but every shift in his ribs reminded him of the accident. His shoulder still pulled when he lifted his arm too fast. The bruises across his side had started to fade, but the soreness stayed with him like a dull warning.The house felt different. It carried an edge he couldn’t soften. Sarah barely looked at him for more than a few seconds at a time. She spoke softly, never raising her voice, never pushing. She moved with care, like any wrong word could break the small peace they were holding on to.Every morning, Marco noticed it again and again. The way she slid his glass of water toward him without meeting his eyes. How she asked if he slept well, but her voice sounded like she already expected the answer. The careful distance she kept when she walked past him. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t anger. It felt like she was protecting something inside her, and Marco didn’t know wh
SOFIAThe drive home was silent, but my head wasn’t. Every turn, every red light, I kept seeing her face. Sarah. The way she looked at him, the way she moved toward him like she had the right. That fake softness in her voice when she said his name.By the time I stepped inside, I couldn’t breathe right. The door slammed behind me, and I didn’t even try to hold back. My bag hit the wall, the sound echoing through the quiet house. I stood there, breathing hard, hands shaking, watching it slide to the floor.That image of her hugging him burned in my head. Her arms around him like she belonged there. My jaw clenched. She didn’t even hesitate. Not a flicker of doubt. Like she knew he wouldn’t pull away.“Stupid,” I muttered, kicking my shoes off hard enough that one flew across the room. “So damn stupid.”I walked back and forth, trying to shake off the feeling crawling under my skin. It wasn’t just anger. It was humiliation. That look Tony gave me when I stood there watching her hold Mar
SARAHThe kitchen was already warm when I came in. Martha had been up for a while, her sleeves rolled to her elbows, a knife moving fast through a pile of vegetables. The scent of herbs, garlic, and simmering tomato filled the air. I tied an apron and joined her, wordless, my thoughts too heavy to trust my voice.“You’re quiet today,” Martha said after a while. Her tone was light, but her eyes didn’t miss much.“Just thinking,” I said, stirring the sauce. The wooden spoon trembled slightly in my hand. My mind kept circling back to Maddalena’s words from earlier, that sharp voice in the living room, her warning that I didn’t belong here. That Sofia was the better choice. I could still see her smirk when I told her I wouldn’t lose.Martha dropped the vegetables into a pot and gave me a side look. “Thinking about the boss?”I almost smiled. “You mean Marco?”“Who else?” She shrugged, turning to the stove. “Word is he’s being discharged this evening.”I froze. “He’s coming home today?”“T
SARAHThe house was quiet when I walked in, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel peaceful. The air was cold, heavy. My legs felt weak, and my mind was still caught between fear and exhaustion.Maddalena was waiting. She sat in the living room like a queen guarding her throne, arms crossed, eyes sharp enough to cut through the dark. I knew before she opened her mouth that she’d been waiting for me.“Where have you been?” Her voice was calm, but the calm that came before something dangerous.I swallowed and forced a small smile. “I went for air. Needed space.”Her head tilted, slow, deliberate. “At dawn? You think I’m blind?”I shrugged, pretending I didn’t care, though my heart was racing. “Believe what you want.”She stood up, every step closer tightening the air between us. “You’re reckless,” she said. “Marco doesn’t need a wife who disappears into the night. He needs stability. A woman who understands what it means to stand beside him. A woman like Sofia.”The name hit like a slap. So
SARAHThe first sound I heard was dripping. Slow, steady, hollow. Then a faint tap, like someone idly flicking a table. My head throbbed as I blinked my eyes open. Everything looked foggy at first, shapes melting together before settling into the dull color of an old diner. The same one. We were still here. The smell of dust and oil filled the air. I was lying on one of the benches, a jacket thrown over me like a blanket.Daniel sat across the room near the counter, scrolling through his phone. The glow from the screen lit his face. He didn’t even look at me when I moved.I tried to sit up, groaning softly. “What time is it?”He glanced up, bored. “Morning.”Morning. I couldn’t tell if that made things better or worse. I rubbed the side of my head where it still hurt. “You didn’t take me home.”“Wasn’t my call,” he said simply.I frowned. “Then whose call was it?”He didn’t answer. His thumb kept sliding across the phone screen, like I wasn’t even there. I was about to push him again
MARCOThe morning light crept through the blinds and brushed over my eyes before I was ready for it. My head still hurt, but the drugs had worn off enough to let the pain settle deep, steady, and real. The faint sound of traffic from outside mixed with the soft hum of machines in the room. Everything felt too quiet, too clean, too distant.Sofia sat by the window, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone like she was waiting for someone to tell her she belonged there. Her hair was tied back, and her heels rested neatly beside the chair. On the table near her, a tray of untouched breakfast sat cold.I stared at the ceiling for a while, trying not to think, but my mind didn’t listen. I saw Sarah’s face the moment she walked into the room last night. The hurt in her eyes. The disbelief. The silence that followed. Then her leaving. I hadn’t seen her since. No call. No message. Not even a word from home. Just the same echo of guilt sitting somewhere under my ribs.Sofia must have felt my







