I thought back to how it washisidea all along. How I agreed because it made sense – alliances, opportunities, protection. At least, that’s what I told myself. But maybe he knew something I didn’t. From that first night we met, the way his eyes lingered a little too long, the way his voice softened when he said my name…
Maybe he knew we were always going to end up right here.
In love.
And even if it was unbalanced at first – even if I walked into it thinking it was a business decision – I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t regret a single step that led me to him. Tous.
Because I did love him. Deeply. Stupidly. Passionately.
I loved him enough that all the strange beginnings, all the secrets, all the risks… Were worth it.
And watching him in the soft glow of dawn, I realized he must have known that from the start.
The sky softened into pinks and pale honey as the minutes passed, shadows dissolving from the corners of the room.
Eventually, I stood, slow and careful, slipping my arms into my silk robe and tying the sash around my waist. The air was cool when I cracked open the terrace doors, coastal wind brushing goosebumps up my legs.
I stepped outside.
My breath punched out of me in a quiet, sharp breath.
The sunrise crept over Matteo’s right side – warm light catching on his profile, gilding his skin in gold. His back, once hidden in the dim, now stood exposed in full morning clarity.
Scars.
Slashes like faded lightning strikes, crossing over muscle. Old wounds, brutal and patient. I had touched every inch of him, kissed him a thousand times, and somehow never saw this – because he never let me. Because he guarded it, guardedhimself,in ways I hadn’t realized.
My eyes stung immediately. Shame burned in my throat.
Everytime he dimmed the lights. All the times he kept his shirt on until the last second. The way he always faced me, chest to chest, mouth to mouth – never turning his back. Not once.
He didn’t want me to see. Or maybe, he wasn’t ready for me to.
Matteo shifted. Slowly, like he could feel me there without hearing me. He turned only his head at first,looking back over his shoulder, dark eyes meeting mine – a silent, understanding gaze that held years of things unspoken.
He didn’t move to cover himself. Didn’t reach for a shirt. Didn’t turn away.
He let me see him. All of him.
This time, he didn’t hide it. He let me see all of him – raw, unguarded, scarred. And I wondered how many mornings he stood alone, waiting for me find him. To understand him.
Pain lanced through my chest so sharp I had to grip the doorframe.
How long had he carried this alone?
My eyes filled, warm tears threatening to spill as the dawn wrapped around us like something holy, fragile.
Matteo held my gaze, unflinching. And in that stillness, in the quiet hush of early light and wind and heartbreak, I felt something shift inside me – deeper love, heavier devotion, something I could never unfeel.
I stepped closer. The wind lifted the hem of my robe, brushing it around my legs, but all I saw was him. The man I loved pulling me towards him like a magnet. Beautiful and tragic and impossibly strong.
My fingertips touched his skin, feather–light. He shivered – just barely – but I felt it. Goosebumps rose under my palm like my touch startled something tender in him. For a moment, I said nothing. Just leaned forward, resting my forehead gently between his shoulder blades. His warmth soaked into me.
Then I pressed a soft kiss to one of the scars. His muscles tightened under my lips – a pull, a flinch like he wasn’t used to anyone touching that pain. I pulled back enough to look at him, voice trembling.
“H – How?” My throat closed around the question.
Matteo didn’t turn fully. “I took too long to get to the hospital.”
