The sun spills across Luca Moretti’s sleek bedroom as he prepares for a day packed with investor meetings and a high-stakes board presentation. He strides into his walk-in closet, reaching for his signature navy suit. But as he slips on the shirt, the buttons strain; the trousers cling uncomfortably. He mutters under his breath, tugging at the waistband.

“Dio mio… this is what I get for all those late-night dinners.”

He remembers her laughter, the way she insisted he taste every dish, every dessert, saying it was good for him to slow down. Now, ambition is fighting for space with carbonara

Still, Luca straightens his tie, forces the suit into place, and heads out the door. Throughout the presentation, he feels the pinch of fabric with every gesture, but his charisma carries him through. The investors applaud, the board is impressed—success, despite the discomfort.

Back in his office, Luca finally exhales, loosening the tie that had felt like a noose all day. She’s waiting for him, perched casually on his desk, smiling as if nothing is wrong. He closes the door, his jaw tight

“You know,” he begins, voice low but edged with frustration, “I nearly split a seam in front of the entire board today. Every suit I own feels like it’s shrinking. And we both know why.”

He meets her eyes, a mix of irritation and affection in his gaze.

“I can’t keep eating like this just to make you happy. Not when it’s starting to affect me out there.”

The silence that follows is heavy, charged with both honesty and care. For the first time all day, Luca feels like he’s reclaiming control—not of the company, but of himself