Hymns drifted through the air.


    In Rome, churches were everywhere. Step outside, and it wasn''t long before you heard the soaring voices of a choir from a nearby chapel, the melody drawing crowds.


    They climbed the long stone steps, entering a church that blended Romanesque and Gothic styles. Intricate carvings adorned the walls, and even masterpieces of Renaissance frescoes could be glimpsed between the arches. At the center, a couple stood together, radiant with happiness. Their families gathered in the front rows; tourists and sightseers formed a respectful circle around them, everyone hushed as if under a spell.


    Beneath the soaring hymn, the priest spoke.


    M watched the bride and groom, transfixed by their joy. She saw tears in their eyes as they said "I do," then watched as they embraced and shared their first kiss as husband and wife.


    The priest pronounced them married.


    Apuse broke out from everyone-family and strangers alike-bearing witness as two young people joined hands at the start of their new life. In that moment, it was as if happiness couldst forever.


    The hymn echoed, ethereal and haunting.


    Lost in thought, M was startled by the gentle warmth of a man''s voice at her ear. “Darling, remember that bread I queued for this morning? They say it''s the local engagement bread."


    Engagement bread.


    So that''s why he''d made the effort to buy it.


    But if they were only pretending, why make it feel so real? Why did he act as if he truly cared? M''s gaze drifted from the newlyweds as they clung to each other, and she turned to look at Lysander. Her eyes were calm, unexpectedly soft.


    She said, "Then I refuse."


    Suddenly, she remembered how their marriage had begun in utter despair-how it had started with a storm and a breakdown, with no ceremony, no proposal.


    She wondered-


    If someone ever proposed to her, if that man were Lysander, there would only ever be one answer.


    -I refuse.


    Lysander studied her serene face.


    He stood there for a long time. The hymn finally faded; the just-married coupleughed and ran past, hand in hand, the bride''s dress billowing like a cloud. In that fleeting moment, Lysander bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to M''s forehead.


    "It''s all right," he murmured.


    "We''re already husband and wife."


    ...


    As they left the church, Lysander never once let go of her hand. M tried, half- heartedly, to free herself, but he held on too tightly, so she gave up.


    Suddenly, she felt exhausted-too tired to speak.


    She let him lead her through the streets. The sun was setting, painting the sky with crimson clouds, as they found themselves standing before a vast and ancient ruin.


    The Roman Colosseum.


    One of the seven wonders of the world.


    It was closed to the public at this hour-Lysander must have arranged it ahead of time. The heavy iron gates swung open, weing just the two of them.


    They climbed the stone steps,


    And soon stood at the very top, looking out over half of Rome, as if perched at the peak of the world.


    For a moment, M felt dizzy.


    Beneath her feety a thousand years of history. The wind brushed her face, and her chest rose and fell as she imagined the roars of wild beasts, the cries of men, the ancient blood and thunder that had once shaken this ce. The Colosseum had witnessed it all: diators, carnage, the roar of the crowd.


    She looked down at Rome''s grandeur-awed, shaken.


    Her heart pounded.


    She almost wanted to leap from the edge.


    It took everything to resist the sudden urge or maybe it was just Lysander''s grip, steady and unyielding, that anchored her. She turned abruptly, her sharp, bright eyes Tocking onto his. With the wind in her hair, she spoke.


    "Lysander, I want something."


    He froze.


    It was the first time she''d ever asked him for anything. Instinctively, he replied,


    "Just say it."


    If you want it, I''ll get it for you.


    "A knife."


    Her answer caught him off guard.


    He blinked. "Why do you want a knife?"


    "I''m afraid."


    The wind was picking up. She lowered her gaze, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her voice barely more than a whisper.


    "Lysander, I''m scared."


    "I don''t know what you''re nning, but just knowing that Cossio might already be somewhere in this city makes me anxious, uneasy. If I had a knife, I''d feel safer.”


    He didn''t answer right away, so she looked up at him, her delicate face full of vulnerability and worry.


    "Lysander,"


    "Will you find me a knife? Nothing, too big, just... I want you to pick it out yourself. Choose the best one, the sharpest one, the one you like most. If it''s from you, I''ll feel safer."


    "I just want some peace of mind."


    She squeezed his hand gently, her eyes pleading silently.


    It only took a moment-just a few seconds-before she saw the tension in


    Lysander''s face ease. He smiled softly.


    "All right. I''ll pick one for you."


    "The very best."


    M smiled too. She leaned in, looping her arms around his neck, and kissed him.


    "I knew you would-"


    She didn''t finish, because his hand


    slipped to the back of her head, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. The sky behind them glowed crimson, brighter than blood a rare and beautiful sight.


    This time,


    M didn''t pull away.


    She let him im her lips, let the moment sweep her away. Unseen by him, her


    eyes stayed clear, her thoughts far away.


    She''d wanted a gun, at first.


    But she knew he''d never give her one-she wasn''t skilled with firearms, and she


    might hurt someone by ident.


    A knife would do.


    She was tired of running, tired of being the girl who always fled.


    She didn''t want to run anymore.


    Whether it was Cossio or Lysander who wanted things to end-fine. She''d be part


    of that ending, too.


    She wasn''t running anymore.