- Luca -
The room went quiet after Aria walked out.
It wasn’t a peaceful silence—it was the kind that sits heavy on my chest and dares me to take a breath.
I stared at the ceiling, counting the tiny cracks in the plaster like they were escape routes.
My stomach burned with a dull, gnawing pain that twisted deeper every time I inhaled.
IV dripped steadily beside me was the only thing in the room moving—reminding me just how trapped I really was.
My father sat by the window, his hands resting still, his gaze lost somewhere outside.
My mother stood right by me, arms locked tight, her back so straight she looked like she was forcing the world not to fall apart.
No one spoke for a long moment.
Then my father sighed.
“Luca,” he said, being careful with every word.
