The door clicked open.
Sofia stepped in—and froze.
Everything stopped.
Her eyes locked onto Luca.
And then… the diary in his hand.
Her diary.
The color drained from her face instantly. Her breath hitched, chest tightening as panic surged through her veins.
“No…” she whispered.
Luca didn’t move.
Didn’t look away.
He stood there like he belonged in the room, like he owned every inch of it—including her secrets.
Slowly, deliberately, he closed the diary.
“You kept this,” he said, his voice low, almost thoughtful.
Sofia’s hands trembled. “You shouldn’t have touched that,” she said, but there was no strength behind her words. Only fear.
And something worse.
Exposure.
Luca tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Years,” he murmured. “You’ve been writing my name for years.”
Her
