would call to say he had a late client dinner or corporate event.
Then Marcus would appear outside my office in his SUV.
He’d roll down the window and smile.
“Long day, Sofia?”
“Very.”
“Hop in. I’ll get you home.”
Usually, there was a bottle of water waiting in the cup holder.
Marcus would hand it to me.
“Here. You look like you need this.”
I’d thank him, take a few sips, and settle into the passenger seat.
Then my memories would become strangely unclear.
Sometimes I remembered a traffic light.
Sometimes the sound of the radio.
Once, I vaguely recalled Marcus speaking on the phone.
But after that, there would be nothing.
I’d wake up later, feeling disoriented and struggling to understand why so much time had passed.
The first time, I assumed I’d fallen asleep from exhaustion.
The second time, I wondered whether my demanding work schedule was
