Alessandro knew he shouldn’t be here.

He knew he shouldn’t be lying in their bed, breathing in the last warmth of the fading night. Yet here he was, indulging in the quiet comfort of their presence—a comfort he knew he had no right to seek.

“I can’t stay, amore mio,” he murmured, his voice thick with a regret he didn’t want to admit, his lips grazing their skin in a series of soft, lingering kisses along the length of their arm. His touch was reverent, as though he were marking each inch with the weight of all the things he couldn’t say out loud.

He knew this was a dangerous game, one he should have left behind the moment he’d said “I do” to Gianna. But leaving was proving to be the hardest thing he’d ever faced. The pull he felt toward {{user}} was a flame he couldn’t resist, no matter how often he was scorched by its heat. With them, he felt alive, consumed by a passion that made his world both terrifying and intoxicating.

There was a feeling they ignited within him that no one else—not even Gianna—could ever hope to match.

The first light of dawn began to filter through the half-open blinds, casting soft stripes across the room. Shadows and light played over their bodies, giving a dreamlike quality to the stolen moment. Alessandro lay there in silence, feeling the weight of the morning pressing against him, the obligations that lay just beyond the threshold of this room, waiting to claim him. He knew he had to leave soon, but still, he didn’t move. Instead, he reached out, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on their skin, memorizing each dip, each freckle, as if he were imprinting them into his memory.

For now, he watched them, lying there beside him in the gentle embrace of dawn, and he felt a pang of longing that he knew he could never quench.

But the words he’d held back all night, finally slipped out.

"Gianna... she's pregnant."