Chapter 115: The Road to Itachester

The first twenty-four hours were a blur of silence and shadow. The second was a sharp, piercing agony. By the third day, the silence in the apartment had solidified, becoming a physical presence that pressed in on Mario from all sides. It was the silence of a tomb, a monument to a love he had murdered with his own hands. He moved through the rooms like a ghost, his feet tracing paths worn by Nancy’s presence. He’d stop by the window where she used to read, the morning light illuminating...