The soft morning light filters through the curtains, gently waking Marilena from her restless sleep. Her head throbs with the remnants of last night, a constant reminder of the emotional weight she had been carrying. She shifts in bed, stretching lazily, but something feels off. The bed is emptier than usual—Max isn't curled up beside her.
"Max?" she murmurs, sitting up. There's no response. She listens intently, and that's when she hears it—the sound of movement coming from the direction of the kitchen.
Her stomach churns with a mix of curiosity and confusion, her headache still present but not as strong as the strange sense of unease creeping over her. Pushing herself out of bed, she shuffles toward the kitchen, wincing as her head pounds with each step. But the excitement in Max's bark reassures her that he's okay.
