“We don’t fight… we disagree,” Niccolo said, lighting a cigarette with practiced ease. The flame flickered briefly before he brought it to his lips, his gaze shifting to you, stubborn and searching, as if seeking some form of validation. Every time he spoke about his “girlfriend,” Virginia, it was only to air out the growing list of problems between them.

“She says that I love her,” he continued, drawing out the word with exaggerated disbelief.

“She doesn’t care if you love her,” Camilla interjected, her eyes narrowing as she took a slow drag of her cigarette. “She cares about how good you look in photos.” she added.

Niccolo paused, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Well, I do look good in photos,” he said, the hint of a laugh in his voice, as though deflecting the truth behind her words with a joke.