A Promise kept

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Aurora's POV

June 16

The house woke early.

By 7:30 that morning, sunlight was already cutting through the kitchen blinds, painting bright stripes across the countertops. Mom was standing at the coffee machine, already dressed for the day, while Dad sat at the table with his tablet, scrolling through the morning news.

Luca was stealing pieces of toast straight from the plate.

I came downstairs wearing a simple sundress, my hair pulled into a ponytail and sneakers on my feet.

“Buongiorno, principessa,” Dad said, looking up from his tablet. “Hai dormito?”

[Good morning, princess. Did you sleep?]

I poured myself a cup of coffee.

“Buongiorno. Abbastanza.[Enough]” I took a sip before making a face. “I'm nervous.”

“Per cosa?” Mom asked, sliding a plate of eggs onto the table.

[About what?]

“Per domani. [About everything.]”

I sat down beside Luca.

“It feels strange to leave.”

Dad reached across the table and took my hand.

“Lo so,” he said gently. “But you've got this. E noi siamo qui.”

[I know. And we're here.]

Luca rolled his eyes.

“Can I eat in peace, or dobbiamo fare il momento emozionante?”

[Do we have to have the emotional moment?]

“Taci e mangia,” Mom said without looking at him. “Oggi facciamo qualcosa di bello. Tutti insieme.”

[Shut up and eat. Today we're doing something nice. All together.]

I smiled.

For a moment, everything felt normal.

Like tomorrow wasn't waiting for us.

Like I wasn't leaving.

After breakfast, we loaded ourselves into the car and headed to Griffith Park first because Dad insisted.

“Una volta all'anno dobbiamo vedere la città da lassù,” he said as he drove. “Una volta all'anno.”

[Once a year, we have to see the city from up there.]

Griffith Park

It was already hot when we reached the lookout.

I pulled my hat lower over my face as we stood beneath the bright California sun. Los Angeles stretched out beneath us, sprawling and hazy, the city alive even from this distance.

Dad came to stand beside me.

“Che ne pensi?” he asked.

I looked out at the city.

“È casa.”

[It's home.]

He smiled.

“Lo è. And it always will be. Anche quando andrai a Davis.”

[Even when you go to Davis.]

I turned toward him.

“Papà, smettila, or I'm gonna cry.”[Dad, stop]

“Va bene, va bene.” He laughed and raised his hands in surrender. “Andiamo a prendere i tacos. Luca sta morendo di fame.”

[Okay, okay. Let's go get tacos. Luca is starving.]

“I'm not starving,” Luca called from behind us.

Dad glanced at him.

“You've eaten half the snacks in the car.”

Luca shrugged.

“That's different.”

We ended up eating tacos in the car with the windows down, the warm California air rushing through the open windows as music played softly from the radio.

From there, we headed to Burbank for an escape room.

Burbank — The Hollywood Heist

The escape room smelled like smoke and fake terror the moment we walked in.

Luca was immediately suspicious of everything.

Within minutes, he was on the floor.

“Mamma! C'è qualcosa qui sotto!”

[Mom! There's something under here!]

Mom crouched beside him.

“Cosa vedi?”

[What do you see?]

“Una lettera.” He held it up. “It's in Spanish. Dice, ‘Mira detrás del póster.’”

Mom translated it automatically.

“It means, ‘Look behind the poster.’”

Dad was already at the wall.

“Dietro i quadri,” he muttered. “Sempre dietro i quadri.”

[Behind the paintings. Always behind the paintings.]

He flipped one of the movie posters over.

A folded note was taped to the back.

Dad opened it.

A four-digit code.

3170.

“Il codice,” he said. “Perfetto.”

[The code. Perfect.]

I looked around the room, trying to make sense of the clues we'd already found.

Then something caught my attention.

“Il terzo gradino.”

[The third step.]

Everyone looked at me.

I pointed toward the fake staircase.

“It's not a real step.”

I crouched down and ran my fingers along the edge of the third step before pulling at the front panel.

It popped open.

Clink.

A small key fell onto the floor.

“La chiave!” I shouted.

[The key!]

Dad laughed.

“Brava!”

[Good job!]

He pulled me to my feet.

“Genio.”

[Genius.]

“È solo logica,” I said, trying not to smile.

[It's just logic.]

Luca immediately started doing a victory dance.

“Sono stato io a trovarlo per primo!”

[I found it first!]

“You absolutely did not,” I said.

“I spiritually found it.”

Mom shook her head.

“Andiamo. Pattinaggio. I promised Luca.”

LA Kings Ice Rink

The rink was freezing compared to the heat outside.

Loud music played through the speakers while children and teenagers raced around the ice.

Mom held Luca's hand as he wobbled along.

“I'm doing great,” he insisted.

“You're holding my hand for a reason,” Mom replied.

Dad took my hand and pulled me onto the ice.

Then he spun me.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

“Dad!”

I laughed as the world blurred around me.

When he finally stopped, I immediately lost my balance and fell.

Dad caught me before I hit the ice.

“Ti ricordi?” he asked, laughing. “Quando eri piccola e facevi così ogni cinque minuti?”

[Do you remember? When you were little and did this every five minutes?]

I groaned.

“Piango ancora.”

[I still cry.]

He held out his hand and pulled me back up.

“Ti prendo sempre,” he said softly.

[I'll always catch you.]

His eyes held mine.

“Sempre.”

[Always.]

Mom skated over, shaking her head.

“Basta dramma. Siamo una famiglia.”

[Enough drama. We're a family.]

She looked at all of us.

“Le famiglie cadono e si rialzano.”

[Families fall and get back up.]

Luca groaned.

“Siamo imbarazzanti.”

[We're embarrassing.]

Mom smiled.

“Sì.”

[Yeah.]

“And I like it that way.”

West Hollywood — Trattoria

Dinner was at our usual trattoria.

The waiter brought bread before we even asked, and everything felt familiar—the warm lighting, the noise from the kitchen, the smell of garlic and fresh pasta.

Wine was poured for Mom, Dad, and Luca, while I got sparkling water.

Dad lifted his glass.

“Alla famiglia. Al Texas. All'Italia. E a quello che viene dopo.”

[To family. To Texas. To Italy. And to whatever comes next.]

“Salute,” we said together.

[Cheers.]

For a while, nobody spoke.

There was only the clinking of forks against plates and the distant sounds coming from the kitchen.

I looked around the table.

My family.

My home.

The people who had been there for every version of me.

I slowly put my fork down.

“Mi mancherete.”

[I’m going to miss you all.]

Mom immediately reached across the table and took my hand.

“Anche tu a noi, amore.”

[We'll miss you too, love.]

“Ma è solo per poco.”

[But it's only for a little while.]

She smiled.

“And you have Luca with you.”

Luca looked up from his pasta.

“Do I really have to FaceTime every day?”

“Yes,” Mom and I said together.

He sighed dramatically.

“Fine.”

Dad leaned back in his chair and studied me.

“Sei pronta, lo sai?”

[You're ready, you know?]

“For Houston, for Italy, for Davis,” he continued. “For everything.”

I nodded.

My throat tightened.

“I hope so.”

“You are,” Dad said simply.

Under the table, my phone buzzed.

I glanced down.

ELENA: you good?

My thumb hovered over the screen.

I didn't answer.

“Andiamo a casa,” Dad said finally, reaching for the check.

[Let's go home.]

“Domani è presto.”

[Tomorrow is early.]

11:47 PM — My Room

By the time we got home, Luca had fallen asleep against my shoulder during the drive so much fir a big brother.

I watched the city lights blur past the window.

Tomorrow.

The word kept repeating in my head.

Tomorrow, I will leave.

When I walked into my room, my suitcases were already packed and waiting beside the door.

Everything I needed was inside them.

I sat on the edge of my bed and picked up my phone.

11:47 PM.

No messages from Ethan.

I stared at the screen for a long moment.

Then I opened our messages and typed:

Night.

I read it once.

Then deleted it.

I turned off my phone and placed it face down on the nightstand.

Tomorrow, I was leaving home.