1942, late evening.

Berlin, Germany

Leo

Matteo's back was against the wall, staring quietly at me.

I settled down next to him, holding his hands in mine.

"What's wrong?"I asked.

He threw my hands away and shoved a file in my face.

The same file that Renada handed to me days ago.

"You didn't tell me, "He said darkly.

A beat.

"Why?"I could hear his voice trembling.

There was no denying the truth.

He already knew.

I was guilt-ridden.

I had kept it all away from him.

"How did you get this, Leo?"He said calmly.

"Renada gave it to me."

"Renada, Renada, Renada! Why is it perpetually her?" His words exploded, coloured by a disgusted fury. "Why do you always extol her virtues?!"

Embedded in every syllable, a taint of jealousy.

Beneath the anger, an undertone of hurt.

I attempted to meet his gaze, but his eyes averted mine. Frustration and resignation surged within me. I stood, exhaled wearily, and retreated to my room.

The world seemed to conspire against me.

Alone, adrift on an unfamiliar shore.

Lost without signposts.

Without allies.

A feeling of isolation gripped me, tightening its grasp.

In a tumultuous sea, Matteo was my anchor, my beacon of joy.

Renada was my steadfast confidante.

And now, it was all unravelling.

My world, my refuge, was