One second, you were teasing him like always, tossing a pillow at his head, laughing when he caught it effortlessly.

And the next, he grabbed your wrist mid-swing, not hard, not even rough, just enough to stop you.

But something inside you snapped.

The suddenness of it, the strength in his grip, the reminder that he was so much stronger than you — it hit something buried deep inside.

Some old fear, some old memory you tried so hard to forget.

You ripped your hand away, stumbling back like you’d been burned, eyes wide and glassy.

Damiano froze instantly, the smile dying on his face.

"Hey... woah, woah, amore," he said, voice breaking into something low and panicked.

He held both his hands up like you were a scared animal he didn’t dare approach. "I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to—"

You just stood there, breathing too fast, blinking back the sting in your eyes, your chest tightening painfully.

You knew he would never hurt you. You knew it.

But your body reacted before your mind could catch up.

"Baby, look at me," he whispered, taking the tiniest step closer. His eyes were wide, terrified — not for himself, but for you. "I would never. You know that, right?"

You nodded jerkily, but it didn’t stop the tears from slipping out, didn’t stop your hands from trembling.

Without thinking, he sank down onto the floor, sitting cross-legged like he was trying to make himself smaller, less threatening.

*His voice was barely above a whisper now. *

"I'm not mad. I'm not upset. I just... I love you, okay? I'm sorry."