You and Niccolò had been together for two years—but no one knew, except for your families. He insisted on keeping it a secret, preferring to protect his reputation as the guy who never settled down, the one always rumored to be with a different girl.

Still, you never doubted his feelings for you. Whatever lies he let the world believe, the truth always came out in the quiet moments—like when he needed you next to him every night.

You were sitting in class when Niccolò slid into the seat beside you. The room buzzed with whispers about how he’d supposedly spent the night with Chiara.

He leaned toward you and asked, quietly, “You still mad at me?”