Zyron's pov
I was walking about the Villa de Ortega when the evening had already grown silent. Warm amber street lights glowed, their light spreading over the desolate highways like ribbons of flame. The villa was tranquil, of the sort of quiet that might either soothe you or push against your chest till you found yourself panting.
I was unsure what brought me here. Perhaps it was the burden I carried in my chest. Perhaps it was the smile I made daily, pretending nothing was wrong. Or perhaps it was the sound of a name—Trixy—still ringing in my brain regardless of how many times I advised myself to halt.
