The sun had barely begun to dip into the horizon, casting warm gold and amber light across the quiet Italian villa. The day felt heavy with meaning. The kind of day that would etch itself into memory—not because of what was said or done, but because something had shifted inside them both.
They’d said it—finally. Not in desperation, not in fleeting lust, but in truth.
I love you.
The words had poured from Amelia’s mouth like water breaking through a dam, and it had hit Enzo harder than a bullet ever could. And when he’d said it back, something inside him cracked open—something he had welded shut for years.
But now, silence blanketed the room, and it wasn’t the kind that comforted. It lingered with weight. With things unsaid.
Amelia sat on the balcony, a soft breeze playing with strands
