After they left, the studio felt incredibly quiet.

“You should go to sleep, Mariana,” Jonathan said, looking at the clock on the wall.

It was past two in the morning.

“Where will you go?” I asked.

“I’ll stay on the sofa here, if you’ll let me,” he said. “Just for tonight, to keep watch.”

I brought him a wool blanket and a pillow from my small living quarters upstairs.

“Thank you, Jonathan,” I said.

“Goodnight, Mariana,” he replied, sitting on the edge of the sofa.

The next morning, the sunlight filtered through the dusty glass windows.

I walked downstairs to find the sofa neatly made, the blanket folded in a perfect square.

Jonathan was sitting at the wooden counter, a paper bag of pastries and two cups of coffee in front of him.

“I went to the bakery on the corner,” he said, offering a small smile.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, taking a seat on the stool next to him.

“I wanted to,” he said. “It’s a start.”

Later that afternoon, Benjamin called with news.