I needed distance.
I grabbed a glass of whiskey from the first tray that passed and took a generous sip as I headed toward the side balcony.
Unfortunately, Luca noticed me.
He excused himself from the older couple he’d been charming, then approached with a warm smile.
“Enrico. I’m glad you made it,” he said, pulling me into a brief hug.
Of all my brothers, Luca had always been the gentle one—the affectionate one. The only one still stubborn enough to believe something existed in our family beyond appearances.
“As if I had a choice,” I replied with faint irony, expression flat. “You know how Eloá is about this date.”
Luca sighed, nodding.
“She likes traditions,” he said, giving me a look full of understanding. “Even the uncomfortable ones.” Then his eyes narrowed slightly. “How are you?”
The question was soft—but perceptive. Luca was a doctor. He noticed things other people ignored.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
His eyebrow lifted with disbelief, and I exhaled in irritation.
“I’m as fine as I can be. Is that enough?”
“For now,” he replied with a slight smile. “I just wanted to make sure you’re not working yourself into an early grave.”
“I can take care of myself, Luca.”
“Of course you can,” he said, lifting both hands in surrender. “I never said otherwise. But you don’t have to carry the weight of the world alone. You have a family—even if it’s… complicated sometimes.”
I looked at him for a moment. Luca always tried to soften edges, to be the glue that kept our fragile thing from breaking completely.
“I know,” I said, dry.
My gaze drifted past him—and landed on Matteo. He was leaning against a column, alone, expression bored and distant. Probably hating this as much as I did.
Luca followed my line of sight and shook his head.
“Maybe you should try talking to him.”
“Matteo doesn’t listen to anyone but himself,” I said coolly.
Luca’s smile turned faintly melancholic.
“You two are more alike than you think.”
I ignored the comment, leaving him behind and walking toward Matteo. I wasn’t sure what drove me—maybe the need to confront conflict openly instead of letting it rot in silence, the way we always had.
Matteo lifted his eyes as I approached. His face stayed cold, unreadable.
“Enrico,” he said with a slight nod.
“Matteo,” I replied in the same distant tone.
We stood in uncomfortable silence for a few seconds, both staring at the party instead of each other. Finally, Matteo exhaled and crossed his arms.
“You know I hate this as much as you do, right?”
