Alessia walked away before she even realized it. Her steps were heavy but deliberate, each one a small rebellion against the chaos building inside her. Every word Rafael had just spoken the truth he had buried hit her like a storm she wasn’t prepared for. She wanted to scream, to cry, to collapse on the floor and let the weight of it consume her. But she didn’t. She had to get away. From him. From the truth. From herself.
Rafael didn’t move at first. He stood frozen, watching her retreat, a sharp pang twisting in his chest. “Alessia,” he said softly. She didn’t turn. She couldn’t. Not yet.
He took a step forward. Then another. But every movement felt like crossing a line he wasn’t sure she wanted him to. “I didn’t want you to find out like this,” he admitted quietly. Her chest tightened
