Immediately, he steps back.
Even though I really don't want to talk about it, I feel like I owe Vico an explanation. "I didn't know he was coming."
His worn-out flip-flops snap against the concrete with each step. "It was…"
"…very surprising, you're right," I finish his sentence. "I…" My God, what should I tell Vico?
That I shouldn't have kissed him anyway? That I'm so afraid of getting entangled with him here? We've only known each other for two weeks. That's too short a time to have real feelings, if at all. Besides, I have no idea if his heart races too when we spend time together.
"Why are you with Florian?" He sighs heavily, his hands now firmly tucked into his pockets, and gazes straight ahead at the cathedral we're approaching.
I take a moment because his question isn't easy to answer. Since Florian showed up yesterday, it has already been consuming my thoughts. I haven't reached a conclusion yet.
"When we became a couple, I was eighteen," I start telling him, not only for Vico's sake but also to finally understand what's right and what's wrong.
I see his jaw clench, the muscles tense. "That wasn't my question."
True. Nervously, I fidget with my fingers. "I believe we complement each other well. He always has a plan and knows what we need to do next."
Unchanged, Vico lets me see only his profile. "So he's the boss."
"If you put it that way, it sounds like I have no say, but that…" Suddenly, I can't continue. I can't come up with a single example to prove to Vico that it's definitely not like that. "Florian is just an organized person, which can't be said about me." As I speak the words, I realize I've not only forgotten the stupid checklist in the car but also the camera. How could I let that happen again?
Abruptly, he stops and looks at me intensely. "Yet you have an incredible talent," he says, as if reproaching me for my self-critical words.
Maybe. "A talent that's good for nothing," I reply quickly nonetheless because, in the world we live in, imagination doesn't count. Numbers, facts, ambition—those are the values that truly matter. "If it wasn't for Florian, I would have ended up on the streets. That's the truth." I feel ashamed admitting it, but it's the reality. Without Florian, I would never have made it.
He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "What?"
I nibble on my lower lip and think about how best to explain it to him. Soon, I realize it doesn't matter. If I want to be myself, I don't have to choose my words carefully anymore. I can simply speak my mind.
"When my father passed away, my mother was left alone with two children and a pile of debts. We had enough to eat only because the other villagers supported us," I say, walking again to keep my inner turmoil under control. Still, I immediately feel the shame that accompanied me day by day back then.
Every time I had to leave the house wearing a faded jacket. Each moment when the owner of the village store handed me a chocolate bar with a pitying smile.
Until then, I had no idea what poverty really felt like. It's not the hunger, nor the cold when the heating only runs on emergency mode. It's the overwhelming feeling of shame that hurts the most.
I clear my throat to push the memory away. "My brother Noah had just finished high school and started working with the mountain rescue team. But his salary wasn't enough, so I had to drop out of school and start an apprenticeship."
"That must have been tough for you," Vico says absentmindedly, hooking his arm with mine.
I shake my head. "School wasn't a pleasant place for me. I was too dreamy, constantly unfocused, forgot my homework, and mathematics felt like being trapped in a hall of mirrors." I wasn't made for that world. "I couldn't believe my luck when I found an apprenticeship at a nursery."
A smile flickers on Vico's face. "I can imagine. There, your creative flair must have been highly appreciated, and you could blossom."
If he only knew… For a fraction of a second, the furious face of my former boss appears, returning the bouquet I had arranged because it wasn't exactly as she demanded. "It was more like paint-by-numbers," I reply sadly, but that's not the point now. "I didn't complete the apprenticeship."
"Because you didn't enjoy it?"
I could never afford that luxury. "Bankruptcy," I say absentmindedly. "I was seventeen and more or less on the streets." Of course, I could have stayed with Noah, but that wouldn't have been a long-term solution. "The village where I grew up is small. I tried to find another job, but… well… peopleknew me. They knew that…" That I'm Hanna Daydreamer. No one wants to hire someone like that.
We pass by the imposing bronze statues in front of a museum, but not even they can distract me.
"Florian took me in," I finally blurt out, not wanting to delve into the circumstances of my job search. He was so good to me, so selfless and generous; I will never forget it. "At first, I worked as a chambermaid at the guesthouse. But over time, we grew closer, and… well, we became a couple." I hear myself, and it doesn't sound convincing at all. But that's how it happened. It came slowly, without much emotional upheaval. Does that make it any less valuable?
For a moment, Vico hesitates, as if he has to overcome something in his mind before he speaks. "Do you love him?"
By now, I know I can't answer that question with certainty. What does love feel like? What makes true love? What Florian and I have is good. And I should be grateful to have him by my side. Even if the idea of intense passion has always seemed romantic to me, it's not a necessary condition to build a life together. True love is ultimately just wishful thinking. Or is it?
My heart rebels against this rational thought.
"What is love?" I ask softly. "Feeling safe? Always being able to rely on each other? Or is it something more? Something that goes beyond that?"
Could love possibly be that overwhelming feeling that changes everything?
In search of an answer, I look at Vico. And I see a mixture of panic and longing in his eyes.
"What is love?" I repeat once more, pressing for an answer, not knowing what I really want to hear from him.
He opens his mouth, hesitates, exhales shakily, and begins again. But just as he's about to speak, my phone rings loudly, and his lips close again.
