*Ava*
The breakfast on my plate has gone cold, barely touched. The morning sun streams through the small kitchen window as I sit in silence, my mind still back in the square last night, and in those shadowed alleys where secrets whispered louder than the drums.
I was brave last night and the day before. I offered to help Luca without hesitating. Promised to stand by him, to face whatever danger might come. At the time, it had felt easy, but only because I didn’t believe any of it was real.
I had been telling myself this was a dream, a coma fantasy stitched together from half-remembered history books, Renaissance fairs, and period dramas. I thought I’d wake up at any moment, maybe in a hospital bed, Patrick at my side, my mom holding my hand.
When you think you’re dreaming, it’s easy to
