Alessia Mancini
Chef Lorenzo, who had been quietly observing from near the stove, suddenly stepped forward. His flour-dusted hands were planted firmly on his hips, a spatula clutched in one fist like a scepter.
"After dinner, Signora, Signor," he insisted, his tone brooking no argument. "Otherwise, you two won't eat."
The paternal concern in his voice was touching, reminding me of simpler times. I felt a pang of nostalgia for my old life, even as I acknowledged I could never go back.
Riley's laughter broke the tension, bright and incongruous in the somber atmosphere. "This day just gets more surreal," she said, shaking her head in disbelief.
I glanced at Riley, taking in her wide eyes and slightly bemused expression. My best friend looked so out of place in this world of shadows and d
