CHAPTER 5 : BEFORE THE WAR.
956 Words
FLASHBACK
The air carried the softness of summer, warm, slow-moving, and faintly scented with distant blossoms. A soft breeze moved across the open space, slipping through the railings and lifting strands of hair, carrying with it the distant hum of music and conversations rising faintly from below.
She lingered on the terrace, choosing distance over presence. She preferred it this way, away from the noise, the fake smiles, and hollow conversations.
Laughter echoed faintly across the garden, blending with the gentle rustling of leaves in the evening breeze.
Valentina Vittori stood at the edge of the terrace, fingers lightly resting against the cold marble railing as she watched the gathering below.
It was one of those rare evenings.
The kind where the world pretended to be normal.
No guards in sight.
No tension in the air.
No whispered conversations that stopped when she walked into a room.
Just music.
Soft lights.
And people pretending they weren’t part of something darker.
She hated it.
Not because it was fake, but because some part of her wanted it to be real.
“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”
The calm and unfamiliar voice came from behind her.
Valentina turned.
And for a moment—everything else faded.
He stood a few steps away, hands tucked casually into his pockets, as though he had every right to be there.
Tall and effortlessly composed.
Dark hair, slightly tousled by the wind. A sharp jawline softened only by the faintest trace of amusement playing on his lips.
But it was his eyes—steel-green eyes, that attracted her the most.
He observed her.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Valentina said.
Her voice was steady.
But something in her chest had shifted.
“Neither are you,” he replied.
A pause.
His lips curved slightly.
She almost smiled.
“Who are you?” she asked.
He stepped closer.
Not enough to invade her space—
Just enough to make his presence undeniable.
“Does it matter?”
It did matter.
In her world, names were everything. Names tell you who to trust, who to fear, and who to avoid.
And yet—
She didn’t ask again.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he added, his gaze flicking briefly toward the party below. “Why are you up here alone?”
Valentina looked away, back toward the lights.
“Because down there, everyone is pretending.”
“And you don’t pretend?”
Her lips pressed together slightly.
“No, I hate pretence.”
That earned a quiet, almost approving look.
“Good,” he said.
Silence settled between them again.
But it wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was…strange.
“You still didn’t tell me your name,” she said after a moment.
This time, he smiled.
A real smile.
“Alessandro,” he said softly.
"What about you?" he asked.
"Valentina... Val for short."
“Valentina.”
He repeated it under his breath, like he was trying out how it sounded.
“Val…”
Something about the way he said it made her tummy tingle.
A sudden burst of laughter echoed from below.
The music shifted.
The illusion of normalcy continued.
“You don’t belong here,” Alessandro said quietly.
Valentina frowned slightly.
“And you do?”
His gaze met hers again.
Steady.
Unreadable.
“No.”
For a moment—
They just stood there in silence.
Two strangers, two families, two futures that hadn’t collided yet.
But the silence was soon broken by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching them.
“Valentina—” Sofia called out.
Her voice was breathless and panicked.
Valentina turned sharply.
“What is it?”
Sofia stopped just short of them, her eyes flicking briefly toward Alessandro before locking onto Elena again.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
“Your father—”
She struggled to catch her breath.
“They said—there’s been—”
Valentina’s heart dropped.
“What happened?”
Sofia’s voice came out in a whisper.
“There’s been an attack.”
"We need to leave now."
And just like that, the world shifted, the music below stopped, and the laughter vanished.
Lights still glowed.
But none of it mattered anymore.
“Valentina,” Alessandro called out, his voice closer now, and different.
She turned back toward him—
Instinctively. But this time, there was no calm in his expression.
Only something sharp, something knowing.
Something that suddenly didn’t feel like a coincidence.
And for the first time that night, a question formed in her mind.
"Who are you…really?"
Alessandro held her gaze for one long, unreadable moment.
Then, he stepped back slowly.
Like someone who had already seen this coming.
“Go,” he said quietly.
And in that second, everything changed.
Because when she looked at him again, she realized something she hadn’t noticed before.
He hadn’t been surprised, not once.
Not by the tension, not by Sofia, and definitely not about the news of the attack.
Suddenly, meeting him didn’t feel like a chance anymore.
“Run, Valentina,” he mouthed.
After that, she left with Sofia, her thoughts heavy and unsteady. A quiet fear was settling in her chest at the thought of what might have happened to her father.
The night air no longer felt soft.
It felt sharp—colder somehow, like something unseen had shifted around her. The music that once filled the estate had completely died, replaced by distant shouts and hurried movement. Guards who had been invisible moments ago now flooded the grounds, their presence loud, urgent, suffocating.
Valentina didn’t look back.
But she felt it.
That lingering weight of his gaze.
And for reasons she couldn’t explain, it followed her all the way into the darkness.
- Writer
