Brianna’s POV
I pack like a woman preparing a cover story, slow, neat, with care. Two dresses, my mother always likes seeing me in dresses. Flat shoes for walking with her through town. A silk scarf she gave me last Christmas. Nothing that looks like I am leaving for good. Nothing that looks like I am staying forever.
On top, I place the framed wedding photo she keeps asking about. “So I can show Nonna properly,” I practiced in the mirror. My hands look steady in the glass. Inside, they are shaking.
At breakfast, I repeat the plan. A week visiting my family, light as steam rising from coffee. Everyone pretends they will miss me, Silvio as usual being dramatic. Matteo says I should buy my mother something nice. Silvio mutters that I will be missed. I smile at all of it and tell no truth
