But another part of me whispers:Do you deserve this?
What did I do to end up here in a man’s arms who looks at me like I’m made of light, in a home where the floors shine and the water sings, where people bring you breakfast and no one expects you to serve it?
What did I do, other than survive?
The ache behind my ribs blooms.
I didn’t earn this. I didn’t fight for it. I just…fell into it. Into him. Into everything.
But then I remember the way Luca looked at me this morning, like I was something fragile and rare. The way he watched me as if protecting me was his purpose.
Maybe I didn’t earn this the usual way. Maybe I don’t need to.
Maybe loveisn’tabout earning at all.
I close my eyes, letting the warmth rise over my shoulders, and breathing in the scent of eucalyptus.
Just this moment. Just this peace. Just a little longer, before I face the world again.
Then my phone buzzes, and the smile freezes on my face.
Jack.
“Where are you?” he asks, sounding rattled. “I need the moneynow. Viktor’s getting twitchy.”
My stomach drops. “But the deadline was tonight. Why?—”
“Does Viktor ever need a reason?" He scoffs. "He ambushed me at our place. Said if I don't pay up by noon, he'll sell my organs on the black market." He exhales shakily, like he's shivering.
Guilt floods me. I shouldn’t have stayed. Shouldn’t have lingered as long as I did. "I'll meet you at the apartment in an hour," I whisper. "I'm so sorry, Jack. I promise, I'll fix this."
"Please, hurry.” He swallows thickly over the line. "He'll kill me this time, Sis. He really will."
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
I dress in a hurry. My uniform's a bit stale, but it'll have to do.
I grab my things, rush to the elevator, heart pounding. As I wait for the doors to close, a crushing weight settles on my chest.
Luca trusted me. He gave me everything, including his home, his bed, his protection. And here I am, sneaking out while he's gone, like some guilty thief running from grace.
I don’t even know if Jack’s telling the truth. But if he is—if there’s even achance—I can’t risk it. Still, the guilt is like acid in my throat.
Before I go, I rush to Luca’s kitchen, rip a sheet from the notepad by the phone, and scrawl a note with trembling fingers:
Luca,
I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye, but Jack’s in danger. I have to try to help him. Thank you for everything—for last night, for this morning, for making me feel like I mattered. Please don’t hate me for going. I hope I get to see you again.
E.
I fold it and place it on the counter, weighting it down with a coffee mug.
Then I make it down to the lobby, and as I step onto the sidewalk, I lift my hand to flag a cab.
For the whole ride, my heart takes residence up in my throat. It's all I can do not to burst out of the car and run back to the Bronx on foot.
Please, Jack, be safe.
