Night settled softly across Regina afterward while silver moonlight spilled gently across endless snow-covered streets and distant church bells echoed faintly through the frozen Canadian city beneath drifting winter clouds, and inside a quiet apartment overlooking the sleeping town Rhea Volkov sat alone beside the window with her phone resting silently inside one gloved hand.
The screen glowed faintly afterward beneath pale moonlight reflecting across her sharp features and dark hair while snowfall videos from San Diego mountains played quietly through muted speakers.
Snow in California.
Ridiculous.
Yet somehow seeing it made her chest ache unexpectedly tonight.
Because suddenly—
She remembered him again.
Luca Bianchi.
Always Luca lately.
Rhea sighed softly afterward while leaning back against the couch beneath warm apartment shadows and silver winter light spilling across wooden floors.
"…damn it," she muttered quietly.
The memory arrived slowly afterward.
Not violent.
