Zoe whispered:

“Yeah… I do. But thank you… for everything. And don’t worry—I promise I won’t stop talking to you.”

The two embraced one last time. Zoe gave Otto a restrained nod, grabbed her phone, called an Uber, and walked away without looking back.

In the back seat, she couldn’t hold the tears anymore. They fell silently and heavily, carrying the weight of every truth she had pretended not to see.

The driver, an older man with graying hair and a gentle gaze, watched her discreetly through the rearview mirror—respecting her silence, but concerned.

After a few minutes, he broke the quiet with a calm yet steady voice:

“Miss… are you alright?”

Zoe didn’t answer. She only shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as though that could contain the pain.

The man let out a slow breath and, still focused on the road, spoke again—this time sounding almost like an omen:

“I know everything feels out of place right now… but you don’t realize yet the kind of storm that hit your life overnight. And