MARCH 17TH

The cloudy morning air was filled with a scent of something warm and hopeful. Victor jolted awake to the sound of Shanny's voice singing from outside, "Come on out, sleepyhead! You'll miss everything. There's something I need to tell you."

As he moved to open the door, he was met with Shanny's radiant face, a smile lit up by the morning sun. "Good morning, sunshine," she said, her expression full of joy.

Victor, a playful grin on his face, pulled the door open. "Ah, my heart's refreshment has come to chase away the demons of the night," he said, pulling her into a hug and kissing her cheek. "Welcome, my dear." Shanny laughed, playfully slapping his cheek. "Stop being so childish, you lovely idiot. You're so funny! How are you?"

"A slap from you could never hurt me," he said, his voice soft with affection. "I've never been better, not with you here." With a final burst of laughter, they stepped inside, lost in the warmth of their love.

The scent of caramelized onions and roasting garlic was his favorite perfume. At thirty-three, Victor had lived and breathed the rhythm of the kitchen since he was a boy. He moved through the gleaming stainless steel of his restaurant, The Spice Route, with the practiced grace of a dancer. Every clang of a pot, every sizzle of oil on a hot pan, was a note in the symphony he conducted each night. His hands, scarred and calloused from years of heat and sharp knives, were his greatest tools. They could chop a mountain of vegetables in minutes or delicately plate a dish with the precision of an artist. He knew the secrets of every spice, the soul of every ingredient, and the precise moment a dish was ready to be sent out. He was a creator, a healer, and a storyteller, all in one.

Last night, the restaurant was alive, buzzing with the energy of a full house. Victor stood at the pass, his eyes scanning the plates, his mind a thousand places at once. He was a king in his kingdom, and he believed this happiness, this success, would last forever. He had no way of knowing that a single, devastating moment was about to turn his world into ashes.

As they were lost in their moment of peace, the landline phone suddenly rang. Victor went to answer it, and as he listened, his expression shifted. The joy in his eyes vanished, replaced by a deep cloud of shock and uncertainty. "What happened, my love?" Shanny asked, her voice filled with alarm. "Why has your happiness suddenly disappeared?"

"It's my restaurant," he said, his voice flat. "The Spice Route... it's gone. Years of tears, sweat, and blood... all burnt away. And my little brother... he was in a car accident on his way here to tell me."

Shanny felt the shock hit her as well, her own happiness crumbling in an instant. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to find the words to comfort him, to bring back his joy, but she knew she couldn't. "I'm so sorry, Victor," she whispered, her voice pained. "How is he?" At that moment, a text message alert chimed from her purse. She pulled out her phone and read the message: Jacobs Alfredo has died after being rushed to the hospital.

Her heart ached as she watched him. Victor, the man she had always known as strong and courageous, was now leaning against the wall, utterly lost. To see him so broken, so defeated, was a pain she hadn't known existed.

Shanny forced herself to be strong. "Save your strength, my love," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "Take a shower. Then we'll go to the hospital." Numbly, Victor nodded and went to the bathroom. As he was gone, Shanny's mind raced, trying to find a way to tell him the second part of the news, the worse part.

Suddenly, a news report on the radio broke through the silence. The reporter's voice announced in a calm, flat tone: "Jacobs Alfredo has died after a serious car accident while being rushed to the hospital." A gut-wrenching wail ripped from the bathroom. Victor came out, his face streaked with tears. "My God, what has happened to me?" he cried, collapsing in a wave of unbearable grief. Shanny's own tears began to fall uncontrollably. She went to him, holding his hand as if to keep him from drifting away.

"Don't cry, Victor," she said through her own sobs. "God's work is flawless. It's all part of His plan. He never gives you a test that's too much for you. He knows you can handle this, and that's why this has happened. I'm so sorry, my love. Please don't cry."