The eyes they couldn't forget.

CHAPTER ONE. Amara Bellini had always believed that the loudest houses were the happiest ones. That was before she learned that sometimes people laughed the loudest when they were trying to hide something. The Bellini house was alive. It was always alive. Music drifted from the kitchen, competing with the voices of at least seven different people arguing about something that probably didn't matter. The smell of roasted garlic, tomatoes and herbs filled every corner of the large family home, while children ran through the hallway as if the polished floors had been built specifically for them to destroy. Amara stood in front of the mirror in her childhood bedroom and smiled at her reflection. Her curls were still damp from her shower, falling wildly around her shoulders. The blonde highlights woven naturally through her black hair caught the warm evening light coming through the window. She reached up and pushed one curl away from her face. Her reflection stared back. One green eye. One deep brown eye. Growing up, her eyes had always been the first thing people noticed. Beautiful. Unusual. Lucky. She had heard all of it. Tonight, however, Amara barely looked at them. She was too busy deciding which earrings to wear. "Amara!" Her mother's voice travelled up the stairs. Amara closed her eyes. "Mamma, I'm coming!" "You said that ten minutes ago!" "And I'm still coming!" A laugh came from the hallway. Amara turned just in time to see her younger sister leaning against the bedroom door. Lucia Bellini looked beautiful. She always did. At twenty-three, Lucia had a softer face than Amara, lighter hair and an energy that seemed impossible to contain. She had changed outfits twice already, Amara knew, because Lucia had called her that afternoon to complain about both dresses. Amara looked at her now. "You look nice." Lucia smiled. "Only nice?" "Beautiful." "Better." Amara laughed. "You're impossible." "I learned from you." Lucia walked into the room and immediately began looking through Amara's jewellery box. "No, you didn't." Lucia pulled out a pair of gold earrings. "These." Amara raised an eyebrow. "You don't even know what I'm wearing." "I know you." Lucia looked up. For a second, something unreadable passed over her face. Then it disappeared. "So," Lucia said brightly, "is Adrian coming?" Amara smiled. "He's already downstairs." "Of course, he is." "What is that supposed to mean?" "Nothing." Lucia immediately looked away. Amara frowned. "Lucia." Her sister smiled again. "I said nothing." There it was again. Something small. Something strange. Amara noticed it but dismissed it. People had moods. People had secrets. That didn't mean those secrets belonged to you. She had always believed that. "Come downstairs," Lucia said. "Nonna is already complaining that you don't love her anymore." Amara gasped dramatically. "How could she say such a thing?" "Because you didn't visit last weekend." "I was working." "You could have worked from here." Amara laughed. "You and Nonna should start a support group for emotionally manipulative women." Lucia walked out of the room. Amara followed her downstairs. The moment she reached the dining room, her grandmother saw her. "Finally!" "Nonna!" The older woman opened her arms. Amara immediately crossed the room and hugged her. Her grandmother squeezed her tightly. "You are too thin." Amara pulled back. "I am not." "You are." "Nonna, I had pasta yesterday." "One pasta?" "One plate." "Not enough." Amara laughed. "You haven't even asked how I am." "I can see how you are." Her grandmother touched Amara's cheek. "You work too much." "Mamma!" Lucia called from across the room. "Nonna is starting again!" Amara's mother shook her head from the kitchen. "Let her. She has been waiting all day." Amara smiled. She loved this. The noise. The teasing. The familiar arguments. This was home. Her father stood near the window, talking to one of her uncles. Her cousins were gathered around the television. Her aunt was complaining that nobody appreciated her cooking while everyone was eating it. And near the drinks table stood Adrian. Amara's smile changed the moment she saw him. Adrian Romano turned around almost as if he had felt her looking. He smiled. And for one brief, perfect moment, Amara felt completely safe. He was handsome in the familiar way that had once made her nervous. Dark hair. Warm eyes. The kind of easy smile that made strangers trust him. But Amara didn't think of him as handsome anymore. Not first. She thought of him as familiar. Comfortable. Home. They had been together for almost four years. Four years of birthdays. Family holidays. Arguments that ended in laughter. Late-night phone calls. Plans. There had always been plans. Adrian opened his arms. "Finalmente." "Don't start." "You are always late." "I am not late." "Everyone is already here." "That means everyone else is early." He laughed and kissed her cheek. Amara rolled her eyes. "Arrogant." "Beautiful." She tried not to smile. Failed. From across the room, someone cleared their throat dramatically. Amara turned. Her cousin Matteo was watching them. "Can you two stop being disgusting?" "Jealous?" Adrian asked. "Of what?" Amara walked toward Matteo. "Of true love." Matteo made a face. "I would rather eat Nonna's cooking for the rest of my life." Nonna immediately turned. "What is wrong with my cooking?" Matteo froze. Amara began laughing. The entire room followed. For a few minutes, everything was normal. Perfect, even. That was the thing Amara would remember later. How perfect it had seemed. She would remember Adrian sitting beside her. Lucia laughing across the table. Her mother's hand resting on her father's shoulder. Her grandmother complaining about everything. She would remember herself sitting in the middle of it all, completely unaware that she was the only person in the room who did not know the truth. Dinner was loud. That wasn't unusual. At the Bellini house, silence during dinner usually meant somebody was angry. Tonight, however, there was laughter. Too much of it. Amara sat beside Adrian while her grandmother told an embarrassing story about Amara as a child. "Mamma," Amara groaned. "You used to cry every time someone looked at you." "I was three." "You were dramatic." "I was three." Adrian laughed beside her. Amara turned toward him. "Don't encourage her." "I think she's right." Amara narrowed her eyes. "Whose side are you on?" "Yours." "Good answer." He smiled. And for a second, everything felt easy. Then Lucia dropped her fork. The sound was small. But several people looked up. Lucia immediately bent down. "Sorry." Amara frowned. "You okay?" "Fine." Lucia smiled too quickly. "I'm just tired." Amara studied her. "You've been tired all week." "I'm fine." Adrian shifted slightly beside Amara. The movement was almost nothing. But Amara felt it. She turned toward him. "What?" "Nothing." "Why are you looking at me like that?" "I'm not." "You are." Adrian smiled and reached for his glass. "You're imagining things." Amara held his gaze. Then laughed. "Probably." She went back to eating. She didn't notice her mother looking down at her plate. She didn't notice her father suddenly becoming quiet. She didn't notice Matteo exchange a look with another cousin. She didn't notice Lucia leaving the table ten minutes later. But Adrian did. Amara noticed that. Just barely. Her boyfriend looked up when Lucia walked away. His eyes followed her. For less than a second. Then he returned his attention to Amara. She felt something uncomfortable in her chest. It was nothing. It had to be. Amara pushed the thought away. Later that evening, the house became even louder. Some of the adults moved to the sitting room. The younger cousins went outside. Music played somewhere in the background. Amara sat on the sofa with Adrian while Lucia stood near the doorway. Her sister had changed. Amara noticed immediately. "Didn't you just wear that dress?" Lucia looked down. "Oh." Amara laughed. "Don't tell me you've changed again." Lucia smiled. "I spilled something." "Where?" Lucia looked down again. "Somewhere." Amara stared at her. "What kind of answer is that?" "Leave me alone." Amara gasped. "You are rude." Lucia rolled her eyes. Then walked away. Adrian's phone vibrated. Amara glanced at him. "Work?" "Probably." "You said you weren't working tonight." "I said I wasn't planning to." He looked at the screen. Something changed in his face. Only for a moment. Then he stood. "I'll be back." "Where are you going?" "To take this." "Here?" Adrian looked at the crowded room. "It's loud." Amara nodded. "Okay." He walked away. Amara watched him leave. Then immediately felt ridiculous. She leaned back against the sofa. Her grandmother appeared beside her. "You're thinking too much." Amara looked up. "How do you know?" "Because you get that line." "What line?" Her grandmother touched the space between Amara's eyebrows. "This one." Amara laughed. "I don't have a line." "You will." "Thanks, Nonna." Her grandmother sat beside her. For a while, they watched the family. "You're happy?" her grandmother asked. Amara looked around. "Of course." Her grandmother looked at her carefully. "With Adrian?" Amara smiled. "Yes." Her grandmother nodded slowly. "Good." Amara studied her. "What?" "Nothing." "Nonna." "I said nothing." Amara laughed. "Everybody keeps saying that tonight." Her grandmother's expression changed. Only slightly. But enough. Amara noticed. "What?" Her grandmother looked away. "Go find your boyfriend." Amara frowned. "Why?" "Because he's been gone for a while." Amara looked toward the hallway. He had. She hadn't realised how long. Maybe twenty minutes. Maybe more. Her grandmother stood. "Go." Amara looked at her. There was something in the older woman's face. Something Amara couldn't understand. But before she could ask, her grandmother walked away. Amara found Adrian's jacket in the hallway. That was strange. If he had gone outside, he would have taken it. She looked toward the kitchen. Empty. The sitting room. Empty. The garden. She could see several cousins through the glass doors. No Adrian. Amara took another step down the hallway. Then another. The house was large. Her parents had bought it years ago, and every room held some version of a family memory. She walked past photographs. Birthdays. Graduations. Holidays. Lucia and Amara as children. Lucia sitting on Amara's lap. Amara holding Lucia's hand. The two of them laughing at the beach. Amara stopped. For some reason, she thought about how Lucia had always followed her. When they were younger, Lucia had slept in Amara's room during thunderstorms. She had cried when Amara went to university. She had called Amara when she had her first heartbreak. Amara had always been there. She smiled at the photograph. Then continued walking. That was when she heard Lucia crying. Amara stopped. The sound came from upstairs. At first, she didn't think anything of it. Maybe Lucia was upset about something. Maybe she had argued with someone. Amara immediately moved toward the stairs. "Lucia?" No answer. She walked upstairs. The crying stopped. Amara reached the landing. Then she heard a man's voice. Adrian. She stopped. The door to one of the guest rooms was slightly open. Amara couldn't see inside. She couldn't see anyone. But she heard him. "You can't keep crying every time we talk about it." Silence. Then Lucia's voice. Small. Broken. "I can't do this anymore." Amara froze. Her mind immediately searched for an explanation. There had to be one. Lucia needed help. Adrian was helping her. That was all. She should walk inside. She should ask what was happening. But then Adrian spoke again. "I never wanted her to find out this way." Everything inside Amara became still. Lucia cried again. Amara's fingers tightened around the wooden railing. No. No. Her mind refused to follow the words to their obvious conclusion. Lucia whispered something. Amara couldn't hear. Then Adrian answered. "I love you." Amara stopped breathing. The world didn't end dramatically. There was no thunder. No scream. No sudden crash. There was only a hallway. A closed door. And three words that quietly destroyed everything she thought she knew. I love you. Amara stared at the door. Her body refused to move. Inside the room, Lucia began crying harder. Adrian said something. Amara couldn't hear it anymore. Her ears were ringing. She took one step backwards. The floor beneath her felt unfamiliar. She reached for the wall. Her hand shook. "No," she whispered. It wasn't an answer. It wasn't a denial. It was simply the only word she could find. Then the door opened. And Amara looked up. Lucia stood there. Her eyes red. Her face pale. Behind her— Adrian. For a second, nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Amara looked at her sister. Then at the man she had loved for four years. She waited. She waited for Adrian to laugh and tell her she misunderstood. She waited for Lucia to explain. She waited for someone to say this wasn't what it looked like. Nobody did. Adrian's face changed. Lucia covered her mouth. And Amara understood something terrible. She hadn't misunderstood. She had simply been the last person to know. If you like this tone, I can �⁠continue directly with Chapter 2: The Truth in the Hallway, where Amara begins asking questions and discovers the betrayal is much bigger than just Adrian and Lucia.