Serenity
I didn’t ask him about the photo.
I could feel Luca’s eyes on me, but I didn’t look up. I couldn’t. The image of him with Veronica—the woman from the photo—kept replaying in my mind, a relentless loop that I couldn’t escape. It wasn’t even the smile on his face that hurt the most; it was the ease of it. The way they looked so comfortable together. The way the world I had thought was ours—our life—seemed so fragile, so easily destroyed by a single image.
I wasn’t sure what hurt more—the photograph, or the fact that I was beginning to feel like a fool for wanting to believe that it was real between us. The lies had stacked up so high, and I wasn’t sure I knew how to sift through them anymore.
I had kept my distance since that moment. Since the photo. I hadn’t asked Luca about it
