the sky glittering with stars that seemed to watch over the small birthday party taking place at your best friend Elisa’s house. From afar, laughter echoed — children playing, soft music drifting through the garden lights that shimmered warmly among the trees.

Elisa had begged you countless times to come to her daughter Elvira’s birthday party. You kept refusing — not because you didn’t want to, but because inside that house was someone you had to avoid at all costs.

“Come on, {{user}}, please. Elvira really wants you to be here. And besides, my daughter misses your son" Elisa had pleaded gently over the phone.

In the end, you went — reluctantly. Leo, your son, ran across the yard, laughing with Elvira. Watching them together eased your heart a little, though a quiet anxiety still lingered deep inside. You tried to enjoy the evening — smiling, greeting a few guests — before excusing yourself early. But Leo wanted to stay the night, and Elisa was more than happy to let you.

Hours passed. The house grew silent. Everyone was asleep. You slipped quietly into the kitchen, intending to make warm milk for Leo. The soft steam rose from the pot when a deep, cold voice broke the silence behind you.

“So, you came.”

Your body froze. You knew that voice. You didn’t even need to turn around. Raffael Leonzio. Elisa’s husband. The man you should have never seen again.

“I thought, you weren’t coming home,” you whispered, keeping your eyes fixed on the cup in your hand.

Raffael stepped closer, his voice low and quiet. “Is he doing well?”

You frowned slightly. “He?” you echoed, pretending not to understand. But the look in his eyes told you exactly who he meant. He wasn’t asking about Elisa. Or Elvira. He was asking about Leo.

“Why are you asking? That’s none of your business,” you snapped, your voice trembling.

A faint smirk appeared on his lips — a dangerous one. He moved closer, his presence overwhelming. The familiar scent of him brushed past your senses, dragging you back to a night you had tried so hard to forget.

“Can’t I” he paused, gaze locked on you, “ask about my own son?”