But pretending only works until it doesn’t. Tonight, I can’t take it anymore.
I find him in his office again, same as always. The door’s half-closed, light spilling into the hallway in a thin line. He’s standingby the window, drink in hand, staring out like he’s waiting for something to end. His tie’s loose, shirt sleeves rolled up, collar open—that effortless control he wears like armor.
I knock once. He doesn’t turn.
“Mara,” he says, flat and low. “It’s late.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Then try harder.”
I step inside anyway, closing the door behind me. “Why are you pushing me away?”
He exhales through his nose, slow, sharp. “You should go.”
“I’m not leaving.”
He finally turns, his expression unreadable. “Don’t start this.”
“I’m not starting anything.”
The air between us is charged, too quiet. His hand tightens around the glass, the faint clink of ice breaking the silence.
“Go to bed, Mara.”
“No.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “Not until you tell me why.”
Something flickers in his eyes, annoyance maybe. Or guilt. He looks at me for a long moment, then takes another drink instead of answering. The sound of it burns more than the words he won’t say.
“Nicolo.” I step closer. “Please.”
That gets him. His hand stills midair. For a second, I think he might soften, but when he finally looks up, his eyes are cold again.
“Because it’s easier.” The words are emotionless, but they land like a blade.
I blink. “Easier?”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t explain.
“Easier than what?” I press. “Then feeling something?”
His jaw tightens. He looks away.
I take another step, my heart pounding hard enough that I can hear it. “Easier than admitting that you care?”
“Stop.” His tone is sharp, final. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Don’t I?” I reach out, grab his tie, and pull him down to face me. “You can’t even look at me without pretending it doesn’t mean anything. You think I don’t notice? The way you…” My voice catches. “The way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention?”
His eyes narrow. “Let go.”
“No.” I tug harder. “Tell me the truth.”
“Mara—”
“Say it!” My voice cracks. “Say you don’t care. Say none of it meant anything. Say it so I can stop being this stupid.”
He stares at me, breathing hard, and for a split second—just one—I see it.
