Giulia stared at the message longer than she should have.
I know everything.
No anger in the words.
No explanation.
Just certainty.
That was worse.
Alessandro watched her from the bed, quiet, composed—but not detached.
“Matteo?” he asked.
She didn’t answer immediately.
Didn’t need to.
He already knew.
Giulia set the phone down carefully, like it might explode if she moved too fast.
“He knows,” she said finally.
Alessandro leaned back against the headboard, expression unreadable. “He always does.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“No,” he agreed. “It doesn’t.”
Silence stretched between them.
Different now.
Less charged.
More… consequential.
Giulia turned away, reaching for her clothes.
The air felt heavier than it had the night before.
Not regret.
Not exactly.
But some
