Domenico
Night had fallen hours ago, and the neon light I had left on glowed faintly in the room, outlining Chiara’s features.
She was asleep on my bed, carefully positioned on her side with a pillow beneath her stomach so the bandaged wound wouldn’t press against the mattress.
Her breathing was steady and peaceful, but every now and then, her brows pinched slightly.
I sat on the chair beside the bed, elbows resting on my knees, watching her.
Not in a creepy way—just in a… way I didn’t quite understand.
Every time she shifted even slightly, my body reacted before my mind did. I was on my feet immediately.
When her shoulder rolled too much toward the injured side, I gently slid my hand beneath it, adjusting her so the wound wouldn’t strain.
She stirred faintly but didn’t wake.
“Eas
