The wedding was over, but its echo clung to the villa like perfume on silk. Half-empty champagne flutes lined the tables, laughter still hung in the air, and the scent of roses—now wilting—drifted through open windows. GreenLee stood near the balcony, watching the last of the guests disappear into the night. Her heels were off, her hair slightly undone, but her posture remained composed. Luca joined her, jacket slung over one shoulder, his gaze scanning the horizon as if expecting trouble to arrive dressed in moonlight.
They stayed behind, playing hosts even after the curtain had fallen. But beneath the surface, GreenLee’s thoughts churned. The vows, the smiles, the staged perfection—it all felt like a performance she hadn’t auditioned for. Luca sensed it. He didn’t speak, just stood besi
