"You don't know?"
"I thought I did. But now…" I trail off. She gives me a look. "Rava. I know you. You've wanted to be a teacher since you were what—eight?" I say nothing. "I know it might seem hard, but don't throw that away because everything feels confusing right now."
Her voice stays calm, but it hits damn hard.
"You love working with kids! You love that world! Don't bury it just because it hurts to have to choose!"
And it does. It hurts. Because I know she’s right. And that's what makes it worse.
…
The airport exit appears up ahead. I rub my face with both hands. Great. Time to make things even messier.
The sliding doors open. First person who comes out is him.
Noah.
Flannel tied around his waist, hoodie half-zipped, tattooed hands gripping the handle of a beat-up suitcase that looks like it’s been to war. And those stupid sunglasses, inside the airport.
"MY BOY RAVA!" He throws both arms in the air like we haven't spoken yesterday. I feel myself smile, despite everything.
He jogs over and wraps me in a tight hug. "Shit, I missed you, man!"
"You literally saw my face yesterday."
"Yeah, well, FaceTime doesn't smell like Dior and anxiety."
I elbow him.
He pulls back, looks past me. "Is that your mom?"
"Yeah."
He stands straighter instantly, adjusts his sleeves. Suddenly well-behaved. Which is terrifying. "Mrs. Weston?" He offers his hand. "I'm Noah. I've heard about you for years. But I swear it was all good things."
My mom smiles. "Welcome to Italy, Noah. We're so happy you're here!"
"Trust me, I'm happier!" He winks, but nothing over the line. "You raised a good one."
She gives me a smile. I turn away. We start walking to the car. Noah keeps the conversation flowing. Flight stories, weird snacks, the couple that cried the whole time behind him. He knows exactly how to charm adults. But then as we reach the car and my mom moves to the driver's side…he leans closer.
Real close.
"Sooo... is Tattoo Boy real or was that all dramatic pining for nothing?" I turn and look at him. "No, man. I lied. He doesn't exist. I'm actually just seeing things."
Noah laughs. "At least you're seeing hot things. Your brain clearly knows what it wants. I just hope I find an Italian of my own."
We get in the car. I should've filmed the moment Noah sees the house. His jaw literally drops. "DUDE. You live here?? You never told me it was a palace. This looks like a Vogue photoshoot location, not a family home."
My mom laughs beside us, clearly charmed. "It's not that fancy."
"Ma'am," Noah says, placing a hand over his chest like he's pledging allegiance, "this staircase alone has more class than my entire apartment. Do you guys have a wine cellar? Don't tell me. I'll cry."
"You'll see it all soon. Come meet the rest," she says, already leading us into the living room. I exhale sharply. "Pleasebehave." "Relax," he whispers. "I'm on my best guest behavior. Five-star version. Promise."
We step into the living room where my dad, Daisy, and Jin are already waiting. I can practically feel the curiosity radiating off them. Noah doesn't miss a beat. "Sir," he says, shaking my dad's hand, "thank you for letting me stay. I promise I'll be on my best behavior. Which isn't great, but it's better than nothing."
My dad gives a single nod. "We're happy to have you." Daisy jumps in immediately. "I'm so excited to finally meet you. I've heard so many stories."
