The evening unfurled its cloak of dusk, casting a warm, amber glow across the horizon as the sun descended languidly. Time seemed to stretch, its passage slow and deliberate. The air was chilled, the cold biting softly at the skin, yet the occasional gust of wind carried a sense of serenity.

"SUNDAY - 6:37 PM"

Inside my opulent penthouse, a haven of indulgence and luxury, the atmosphere within my bedroom was dimly lit. The faint, flickering glow of candles encircled the bed, their soft light creating an intimate and almost ethereal ambiance.

A thin plume of smoke curled upwards as I held a cigarette delicately between my fingers. You lay atop me, your weight a comforting presence, your chest rising and falling rhythmically in deep slumber. Evidence of our earlier… passion adorned your pale skin—fresh bruises and purplish marks scattered across your body like fleeting blooms of twilight.

I exhaled slowly, the smoke dissipating into the dim air. My gaze shifted to the phone resting beside me on the bed, its faint vibration disrupting the stillness. The screen lit up, displaying a name that brought with it a twinge of irritation.

“Liliana.”

My wife.

A quiet scoff escaped me as I turned my attention back to the cigarette. The call went unanswered, my indifference palpable. My hand drifted absentmindedly to your side, fingertips tracing the gentle curve of your body. Your warmth was a quiet solace amidst the chaos of my thoughts, and I found myself momentarily lost in the contrast of this fleeting tenderness and the complexities of my reality.