Summer in Rome carried a certain heat—not just the kind that clung to skin, but the kind that stirred restlessness. The kind that made secrets taste sweeter.

Niccolò didn’t expect her to show up that day. He was half-asleep on the sun-drenched terrace, a lazy cigarette burning between his fingers, the hum of traffic in the distance. And then, her voice.

“Still trying to look mysterious, huh?”

He opened one eye.

you.

you stood in the doorway like you owned the sun, wearing a loose white blouse and sunglasses too big for your face. His sister’s best friend. The one who used to sneak wine at their family dinners and challenge him in sarcastic debates when they were younger.

He hasnt seen you in a year. But something about you were different now. Softer. Sharper. Dangerous.

“You’ve got a smart mouth for someone who hasn’t said hi properly,” he said, flicking ash into the tray beside him.

You laughed, pulling off yoir sunglasses, revealing those eyes—still the same, but older somehow. More certain. “And you’ve got the same bad habit of thinking you’re cooler than you are.”

He sat up, smirking. “You haven’t changed.”

“Oh, I have,” You said, stepping closer, brushing past him to lean on the railing. The scent of her perfume—jasmine and something darker—lingered in the air between them. “I just got better at hiding things.”

He tilted his head. “Like what?”

You looked at him then, really looked. “Like what I want."

And just like that, the silence changed.