Nine o clock,
Santiago arrived at the familiar location, a swanky rooftop restaurant that had once been a sanctuary for their secrets and stolen moments. The neon lights from the city below cast a warm glow against the darkening sky, and the hum of laughter and clinking glasses echoed in the air as he walked through the elegantly decorated entrance.
The hostess greeted him with a smile, her eyes briefly scanning the well-dressed man before her. “Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes, I’m meeting someone,” Santiago replied, his tone flat but polite. “Marcela.”
“Right this way.” The hostess led him past the bustling bar, weaving through groups of patrons enjoying their night out.
When they reached the private lounge, Santiago paused just outside the door. Inside, the atmos
