There are moments in life that divide time into a clear before and after. They are not always dramatic on the surface. Sometimes they happen quietly, in ordinary places, during routines we have repeated hundreds of times without fear. A dinner at a restaurant. A fork lifted toward the mouth. A casual laugh shared across a table. And then something shifts, and the world feels different forever.
What happened to us did not begin with danger. It began with comfort.
It was supposed to be a calm, enjoyable evening, the kind people look forward to after a long week. No celebration, no special occasion, just the simple pleasure of sitting down somewhere warm and familiar, talking without rushing, eating without thinking too much. The restaurant was one we had passed many times before, a cozy place in the city center that looked inviting from the outside. Soft lighting glowed through the windows. Inside, the air carried the smell of herbs, olive oil, and freshly baked bread. It felt safe. Predictable. Normal.
That sense of normality is what makes everything that followed so disturbing.