“So, what are we going to do about Ludmilla?” Noud asked.

“What do you mean?”

Noud put the lid on the pot and turned off the electric stove under the thick sauce. He slowly turned around and looked Bernard straight in the eye, sitting at the kitchen table.

For Viktoria, the biggest problem was that she had no idea who could have sent the message. More precisely, several people could have been behind those harsh words. Of course, she couldn’t tell Günter—he would have immediately made a huge fuss throughout the complex, hunting for the culprit.

That night—or rather, that dawn—three men were struggling to push Viktoria out of their thoughts. The German woman was dancing a vulgar little dance in the minds of Adrian, Rob, and Günter all at once. While the first two were aroused by the intrusive images, the latter was furious.

Like wildfire, the electric tension spread from one resident to another. It didn’t take long before everyone gravitated toward the plastic table that served as a makeshift bar, hoping to find some kind of remedy.

Carlos busied himself around the grill with a scowl on his face. There was nothing left to do—everything was ready, just waiting for the meat to hit the grate. Still, he had to keep himself occupied with some pointless activity.

"What’s with all the fuss, Pauline?"

"We’re saying goodbye to the year, for heaven’s sake," his wife snapped as she adjusted his tie to perfection.

The residents of the complex had started preparing by mid-morning. Noud and Bernard were setting up Carlos’s grill near the pool.

"Should we put it on the grass or the stone?" Noud pondered.

"On the stone. The lawn wouldn’t take it well."

The world was spinning wildly, and flashes of light danced around the pale woman’s eyes. She felt the scorching sun on her skin and, at the same time, a cold shiver rising from within. Beads of sweat appeared on the nape of her neck, while her hands turned ice cold.

Perla was happily running around the poolside in circles. Meanwhile, María José was struggling with yet another crying fit on her terrace. A half-eaten macaron she found under the outdoor table reminded her of the terrible breakup and how much she missed Carlos.

Ludmilla was good at many things, but heartbreak wasn’t one of them. And now, there sat María José in her living room, face flushed, wailing miserably.

“I only wanted what was best for you!” she sobbed, over and over again.