Lisbon hummed with life outside the rain-splattered window. The bookstore was warm, cluttered, and smelled of old pages and espresso. Elise reached for a worn copy of The Little Prince — and so did someone else. Their fingers brushed. Her heart skipped. “Oh—sorry,” he said, smiling like he’d just stolen a star. “You first.” “You...

It was 7:43 a.m. when Amira’s phone buzzed three times. She rolled over, groggy and disoriented. Her eyes blinked at the screen: 3 new voice messages from a number she didn’t recognize. Unknown numbers usually meant spam or work. She played the first one without much thought. “If someone finds this… I’m sorry. I thought...