Dessert arrived—a delicate berry tart served with handcrafted ice cream. But Celina didn’t touch her plate. The sweetness in the air turned her stomach. She was hungry, yet the bitter acid of sadness fed her more than any food could.

Thor didn’t eat either. His plate sat untouched in front of him. Angélica only picked at hers, more interested in studying faces than savoring flavors. Her eyes moved from Celina to Thor, from Thor to Isabela, as if piecing together a dark puzzle that revealed itself one fragment at a time.

When the clinking of silverware stopped and the plates were cleared, Thor rose to his feet.

He reached out and gripped Isabela’s arm firmly. His face was expressionless, but the tension in his jaw betrayed the effort it took to remain calm.

“You’re coming with me,” he said in a tone that left no room for discussion.

Isabela stared at him, caught off guard, but she didn’t dare refuse. She stood, wearing a mask of confusion, and before leaving, shot one last sideways gla