How far would you go to protect the one you love, even if it means they will hate you forever? Sara and Marcos haven't spoken in three years. Three years of absolute silence since he disappeared without explaining why he left her. Now, the funeral of their mutual best friend has forced them to share a roof at his family home. Five days. Five days to pretend that grief isn't poisoning every breath. Sara's rage is cold, sharp. But Marcos is the only one who knows every invisible scar on her soul, and his presence is a storm she can't escape. Between buried secrets, family trauma, and the electric tension of looks that say more than words, masks begin to fall. Discovering the truth about their breakup could destroy them both—or be the only way to heal. Can love survive when the past weighs heavier than the present? An intense novel about second chances at love, devastating secrets, and the visceral struggle to find redemption amidst grief. Perfect for fans of contemporary romance with emotional twists and broken characters seeking to heal their wounds.
'And what exactly are yours?' Marcos took another step.
Oh my god, the tension in this room is absolutely suffocating! 🤯 I can't believe they're both standing there after three years of silence like nothing happened. This psychological angst is killnig me, I neex to know if Elias will actually leave or if he's here for revenge!
'You need to listen,' Javier said. His voice was a taut thread, ready to snap.
Oh jy god, the tension is suffocating! 😭 Is Javier going t reveal the dark secret that ddestroyed them, or will he just protect her from knowing? This angst is killing me!
The handshake lasted exactly as long as necessary to be proper—not a second longer. Cold. Functional. An empty ritual.
Ouch! That cold, calculated energy he brkngs with him is terrifying. Does anyone else feel like the air just turned into ice? I'm dging to know if Sarw will finally snap or keep this icy mask on!
"But today, dragging my suitcase across the linoleum, I felt my presence screaming."
"Daniel’s name was written on the lid with a black marker, the ink worn from use, as if it had been touched a thousand times without anyone daring to open it."
"He left it ajar, as if wanting to remind us both that this wasn't a trap, but a surrender."
