MATTEO'S POV
The night was quiet, but my mind wasn’t.
I sat out on the balcony of my mansion, the marble beneath my feet chilled by the evening air. A glass of whiskey rested untouched beside me, its amber reflection flickering with the soft lights spilling from inside. Beyond the railing, the city stretched out, alive in the distance—but here, in the solitude of my estate, there was only silence. And her memory.
Sophia.
She haunted me, not in the way ghosts did, with fright and shadows—but in the way a song did, one you couldn't stop humming, even when you hated the lyrics. She was in the taste of my coffee, in the ache behind my eyes, in the tightness at the base of my throat when I closed my eyes and remembered.
It was the look on her parents’ faces that I couldn’t get out of my mind.