We both stopped, awkward and immediate.
For a few seconds we stood there in a silent standoff, each of us trying to decide who would move first.
It dragged on long enough to become almost ridiculous—until, in perfect synchronization, we both moved at the same time and almost collided again.
We laughed.
Together.
Spontaneous, light, real—something we hadn’t done in years. The sound startled me with how comforting it felt.
My heart sped up as I realized—with a sick kind of clarity—how much I had missed that sound. That ease.
God.
I missed it.
But the laughter died quickly, replaced by a silence heavy with meaning.
Our eyes met, and a spark of something I knew I should suffocate immediately snapped in the air.
Enrico breathed in, feeling it too.
“Clara’s asleep?” he asked, breaking the quiet.
I swallowed and nodded.
“Yes. She was exhausted.”
He hesitated, clearly choosing his words with care.
“I was going to watch a movie in the living room,” he said, a tentative smile tugging at his mouth. “Would you… want to watch with me?”
For a second, an automatic yes nearly slipped out.
A part of me wanted to say it so badly it scared me—how strong the urge was to accept something that sounded so normal. A quiet night. A simple thing.
When was the last time I’d had a quiet night?
Months ago. Before Dreamland. Before Enrico tore apart the life I rebuilt after he abandoned me.
But I forced another part of myself to remember that.
Enrico might not be the enemy the way he used to be—
but he wasn’t my friend.
And he never would be.
Trusting him wasn’t an option. I could pretend for Clara, but not with my heart.
Not again.
I took a step back, my body pulling away before my mind finished the decision. Enrico’s expression shifted instantly—hope collapsing into disappointment.
“No, thank you,” I said, cold and distant. The hardness in my tone made guilt flicker, but I couldn’t stop it. “I’m tired. Good night, Enrico.”
I walked away fast, giving him no room to respond.
