The next morning, the sunlight was softer, spilling across the living room in warm, golden sheets. Aria sat at the table, sipping her coffee slowly, while Elena played with her blocks on the floor. The house smelled faintly of bread from the bakery across the street. It was peaceful, almost ordinary.
Luca was upstairs, still sleeping, or so Aria assumed.
A knock came at the front door.
It was the sort of knock that immediately signals hesitation. Not urgent, not insistent, just deliberate enough to make someone pause.
Aria set down her coffee and walked to the door. Through the small window, she saw a man in a plain coat, holding a folder. He looked slightly out of place. Calm, polite, deliberate—the kind of person who wanted to be remembered for his words more than his presence.
"Good morning," he said as she opened the door. "I hope I'm not disturbing."
Aria tilted her head. "You are early. Do I know you?"
