The rain hadn't stopped.
It came down in cold, endless sheets that blurred everything — the road, the trees, even the world itself. My shoes slipped against the mud as I ran, breath sharp in my chest, lungs burning. I didn't care. I couldn't stop. Not when every heartbeat screamed his name.
Rafael.
The bridge was barely visible through the fog. Smoke rose in thin, gray curls, winding into the dark sky. The smell of burnt metal and gasoline stung my nose. Pieces of twisted car parts lay scattered across the road like broken bones.
For a moment, I froze. My heart dropped.
No voices. No movement. Just silence — the kind that swallows everything.
"Rafael!" I shouted, my voice raw and useless against the rain. "Rafael!"
The only answer was the sound of the river below, roaring and wild, crashing against the rocks.
