The apartment was quiet—too quiet—until the ticking of the wall clock striking two in the morning echoed like a haunting whisper in her mind. On the table, the remains of dinner sat untouched. Caroline had only taken two spoonfuls before losing her appetite and falling asleep just like that.
Her phone lay beside her, screen still lit—Marco's last message had remained open for hours: "Thank you for today. I don't know why, but every time we talk, it feels like... life gets a little lighter."
Caroline stared at the screen for a few seconds. A faint smile formed on her lips, only to disappear again, like dew vanishing before the sun rises. She let out a quiet sigh, rose from the sofa, picked up her now-cold tea mug, and walked slowly toward the balcony. Her steps were unhurried, as if weighed down by something invisible. Not by exhaustion, but by memories.
