The Day the World Went Quiet
The sky over Bologna looked grim that afternoon, as if mimicking the mood of Alonso Vega.
The man sat in the living room of his spacious yet hollow-feeling home.
On the glass table before him lay three phone numbers—Anthony's, his wife's, and Gabriella's. He had tried calling them countless times over the past three days, but the result remained the same:
The number you have reached is currently unavailable.
Teresa, his wife, came in holding two cups of tea. Her face was pale, her eyes swollen from sleepless nights.
"Still no word?" she asked hoarsely.
Alonso only shook his head, his blank gaze fixed on the phone screen.
"They wouldn't leave without telling us," Teresa murmured, sitting beside him. "Anthony always lets us know when they leave town… even for a short trip."
"Yes," Alonso replied softly. "But it's been four days, Teresa. Four days without a single message."
He looked out the window as rain began to fall, sliding down the glass like tears that refused to stop.
The house was silent. Normally, when the Vega family visited, it was lively—Gabriella's laughter always filled the room.
The child had grown up before their eyes, ever since she was a baby. Anthony and Alonso had been friends since childhood; they were like brothers. And Gabriella… she was like their own daughter.
Teresa stared at the framed photo on the wall: their family vacation at Lake Como. Gabriella was about ten, standing between her parents, smiling brightly as she held Teresa's hand.
Her little face glowed with joy. Tears streamed down Teresa's cheeks before she could stop them.
"She must be terrified," she whispered. "If only I knew where they were…"
Alonso held her hand tightly.
"I've called every hospital, every airport, even some of Anthony's old colleagues in Florence and Modena. None of them know anything."
He took a deep breath and turned toward the television, which played the local news.
'Police are still searching for the whereabouts of the Vega family, reported missing since earlier this week. As of now, there are no signs of their location.'
Teresa stared at the broadcast, her eyes empty.
"What if something has already happened to them?" she whispered, barely audible. Alonso turned sharply, struggling to contain his own fear and anger.
"Don't say that. Anthony isn't a fool. Even if something happened, he would protect his family until the very end." But saying it only made his chest tighten more.
Because deep inside, he knew—his instincts had been telling him that something terrible was happening.
Hours later, Alonso stood in front of the Modena police station. Rain still poured heavily. His shirt was soaked at the shoulders, but he didn't care.
"It's been four days," he told the receptionist. "Four days without contact. This isn't normal." The officer looked at him sympathetically.
"We've conducted our investigation, Signore. There were no bank transactions under the Vega family's names, no phone signals, and their car was last detected leaving the city on the night of the incident."
"Which direction?" Alonso asked sharply.
"North. But after that… it disappeared from the system."
Alonso stared at the officer intensely, as if trying to break through an invisible wall of unsatisfying answers.
"You know who Anthony Vega is, don't you? He's not just anyone. He has many friends, many business partners. You think someone like him can just vanish?"
The officer could only bow his head.
"We're doing our best, Signore."
****
That night, the Vega household felt colder than usual.
Teresa sat in a chair near the fireplace, holding a small framed photo of Gabriella on her sixteenth birthday.
In the picture, the girl smiled shyly, her hair braided into two, wearing the pale blue dress they had bought together.
"She grew up so fast," Teresa murmured with a thin smile. "Remember when she fell off her bike at the park? Anthony nearly lost his mind. And you… you just laughed."
Alonso smiled faintly.
"She cried so loud that everyone stared at us. But the moment I bought her ice cream, she stopped instantly." He stared at the photo for a long moment.
"Gabriella always reminded me of our childhood… Anthony and I. She has the same spirit, but a gentler heart."
"If only we knew where they were…" Teresa wiped her eyes.
Alonso stood and walked toward the window.
The rain had stopped, yet the world still felt bleak. He gripped the curtain, his voice soft but firm.
"I won't sit still. If the police can't find them, then I'll search for them myself."
A Few Days Later
News of the Vega family's disappearance spread across Italy. Social media was flooded with their photos—especially Gabriella's. Her delicate face and gentle eyes became the center of every headline:
"Daughter of the Vega Family Mysteriously Missing Along With Both Parents."
Comments, prayers, and wild speculation filled the internet. Some outlets even reported the possibility of kidnapping or business-related conflict as the cause.
Amid all the chaos, Alonso sat in his study, reading every article with trembling hands.
He closed his eyes, remembering the day Gabriella was born. He could still picture Anthony crying with joy, holding that tiny baby with shaking hands.
He remembered how Teresa laughed when newborn Gabriella first wrapped her tiny fingers around her own. And he remembered the promise he whispered in that hospital room:
"If one day you ever need a second home, you know where to find me, Gabriella."
Now that promise hung in the air—waiting to be fulfilled.
The Lost Trail
Morning in Bologna felt unfamiliar to Alonso.
Normally, he would receive a short message from Anthony every Monday—light banter about work, or something silly like:
"This morning's coffee is too bitter, bro. Just like our lives when we were young."
But this week, not a single message arrived.
He stared at his phone, which he'd checked countless times. No returned calls, no blue check marks on the messages he'd sent three days ago.
Silence.
A silence far too heavy for someone like Anthony Vega, who never stayed quiet about his family.
"Still unreachable?" Teresa's soft voice broke the quiet dining room. She stood by the large window, wearing a cream-colored nightgown, her eyes full of worry.
"No. Anthony's number, Clara's number, even Gabriella's… none of them can be reached," Alonso said, his voice heavy as he set his phone down.
"I tried calling his office, but they said the Vega family hasn't shown up since Friday."
Teresa turned quickly. "They didn't show up? Not even Anthony?" Alonso nodded slowly.
"He hasn't contacted anyone. No emails, no messages to his business partners. That's not Anthony."
Teresa took a deep breath and looked outside.
In the small garden, the morning sun shone on the hydrangeas they used to plant together with the Vega family every spring.
She remembered little Gabriella laughing as she ran between the bushes, watering them with a tiny bucket while giggling uncontrollably.
"She's like our own child, Lon," Teresa whispered.
"Remember her tenth birthday? Anthony asked me to make two cakes because Gabriella wanted one to share with the orphanage."
Alonso gave a bittersweet smile. "She has the gentlest heart I've ever known."
Silence filled the room again. Only the ticking of the clock could be heard.
Then finally, Alonso stood up and grabbed his black leather jacket.
"I'm going to their house." Teresa stared at him, startled.
"Right now? Lon, the police said they would investigate—"
"Yes, but I won't just sit and wait for a report. They're our family, Ter. Something is wrong."
He walked out of the house quickly, leaving Teresa standing in the doorway with a pounding heart.
Alonso headed to the Vega residence—hoping he might find something there.
****
The Vega family home in the San Donato district was eerily quiet. The black iron gate was still firmly closed, the front garden full of flowers beginning to bloom.
A sign that the household staff was still doing their duties well. His chest tightened when one of the housekeepers opened the gate for him.
Alonso parked his car, stepped out, and scanned the surroundings.
There were no signs of normal family activity.
Clara's car was parked where it always was, and Anthony's office car remained untouched.
"Any news from the Signore?" Alonso asked one of the housekeepers.
"None, Signore. The police came yesterday and asked for information." Alonso nodded grimly.
He stepped inside and examined the framed photos of Gabriella and her parents hanging on the walls.
His feet carried him to Anthony's study.
On the desk were folders, papers, and a pen lying on the floor. The computer was off, but the small router light was still blinking.
Alonso turned on the monitor and checked the activity log:
23:47 — Friday night. Nothing afterward.
He continued walking until he reached Gabriella's room.
When he opened the door, the faint scent of roses greeted him.
The room was tidy, but on the study desk, a book lay open—its last page stopped at a poem titled "Home."
Beside it, a small framed photo showed Gabriella smiling next to Teresa in the garden.
Alonso touched the frame with trembling fingers.
"Where are you, my girl…? What happened to all of you?"
That Afternoon
Later that afternoon, two police cars were parked in front of Alonso's house. A middle-aged officer approached Alonso, who stood by the front gate.
"Is there any news about the Vega family?" Alonso asked as soon as the officer came near.
"None yet, Signore. We're still searching for them. The last CCTV footage captured their car heading north. We also received information from Gabriella's school—apparently they did attend their daughter's graduation."
Alonso fell silent for a moment, remembering his last meeting with Anthony, when his friend mentioned that Gabriella's school would be holding a graduation celebration.
"Please don't stop looking for them," he said firmly. The officer nodded.
"We'll do our best. But for now… we have to consider them missing."
That one word echoed in Teresa's mind — missing.
So cold, so absolute.
Once again, the news of the Vega family's disappearance spread throughout Northern Italy. Local media published bold headlines:
"Bologna Business Family Vanishes Mysteriously — Police Find No Leads."
On television, Gabriella's face appeared clearly — the gentle smile of the sixteen-year-old girl haunting every household watching the evening news.
Teresa stared at the screen as tears slipped down her cheeks.
"Look at her, Lon… that child must be terrified."
Alonso's gaze hardened. "I won't stop until I know what happened." He looked down at the report files.
"What happened to all of you," he murmured, so softly it almost disappeared into the room.
That night, after Teresa had fallen asleep, Alonso sat alone, staring at an old photo of the four of them on the table. Anthony, Clara, Teresa, and himself—young, laughing on the Rimini beach with little Gabriella on his shoulders. He held the photo tightly.
"I promise you, Gabriella," he whispered. "I will find you. Whatever it takes."
Outside, rain began to fall over the roofs of Bologna. But beneath that gray sky, a single resolve was born— the resolve of a man who refused to surrender to loss.
The Lost Night
The Alonso home on the outskirts of Bologna felt far too quiet that night. The rain had just stopped, leaving dew on the windows and the scent of damp earth lingering in the air. The wall clock showed eleven minutes past eleven, but neither Alonso nor Teresa seemed willing to sleep.
In the living room, the television glowed silently, endlessly repeating the news of the Vega family who had vanished days ago. The names filled the screen—Anthony Vega, his wife Clara, and their daughter Gabriella.
Teresa stared at the screen without blinking, her trembling hands holding a cup of tea that had long gone cold.
"I called four times today, Al," she whispered, barely audible. "Four times, and there's still no answer. Not even a voice… nothing."
Alonso sat across from her, eyes red from lack of sleep. On his lap was an old photo album he had taken out of the cabinet.
It lay open to a picture of young Gabriella—five years old, white ribbon in her hair, smiling like the summer sun.
"She'll be all right," he said quietly, more to convince himself than his wife. "Maybe they just… went somewhere. Or their phones broke."
But the words felt hollow. He knew Anthony too well—his friend would never disappear without a word. Especially not after his daughter's graduation, a moment meant to be filled with joy.
Every time Gabriella's name was mentioned, something tightened painfully in his chest.
"She's like our own child," he murmured. "We were there for her birthdays, her first dance recital… she always called me Tía Teresa with that smile."
Teresa covered her face and sobbed.
"I can't bear the thought of something happening to her."
The television suddenly replayed the report at full volume—showing the Vega family again. Anthony and Clara standing beside Gabriella, who wore a simple white dress on her graduation day.
The camera zoomed in on her young face—her sweet smile, now a distant memory. Teresa shut her eyes, tears flowing once more.
"Look at her, Al," she whispered. "She must be so scared…"
Alonso did not respond. He walked up to the television and touched the screen with his fingertips—almost as if he could still feel the warmth of the girl's cheek.
"Hold on, mi niña," he murmured. "Your uncle will find you."
Rain began falling again, tapping softly against the window. The house slowly sank back into silence, broken only by the ticking clock and Teresa's quiet sobs.
Meanwhile, hundreds of kilometers away in Modena—Luca Moretti stood in front of the same news broadcast, alone in his dark office.
The report repeated again and again, showing Gabriella's smiling face—haunting him with every breath.
Luca stared at the screen with an unreadable expression. The cigarette in his hand glowed faintly, smoke rising slowly.
"Don't look at me like that…" he muttered, almost to himself. "You'll never know what really happened."
He turned off the television with a single tap.
The room fell into absolute silence once more, leaving only Luca's shadow reflected in the window as he stared out at the dark Modena sky.