The entire afternoon felt painfully slow.
I sat on our bed, my fingers fidgeting restlessly, twisting and untwisting as my gaze drifted blankly to a far corner of the room.
My chest felt tight, and I couldn't stop letting out long, frustrated sighs—one after another. I must have sighed a hundred times already.
Was Florita able to read my letter?
Did the dove reach her immediately?
Would she come?
The questions kept circling in my mind, refusing to let me rest.
The sun was already beginning to lower, its warm glow casting long shadows across the room. Still… no sign of a reply.
Then, after a few minutes, I suddenly heard the soft flutter and gentle coo of a bird coming from the veranda.
I quickly turned my head.
There—perched on the railing—was the dove I had sent.
My heart jumped.
I immediately stood up and walked toward the veranda, but my feet froze halfway.
That place.
My nightmare.
The memory flashed like lightning—Amber, the darkness, the pain.
