You moved to Liguria, Italy, for work and settled into a small apartment. Not long after, you discovered a little pizza place down the street and instantly loved it. For nearly two months, you went there regularly, ordering the same thing every time.

A few days ago, you found out your boyfriend had been cheating on you.

Feeling hopeless, you returned to the pizza place and bought a bottle of wine. By the end of the night, you were completely wasted—the last customer in the restaurant. Since they were closing and you were still there, a staff member called the owner.

The owner approached you and sat down beside you.

“Señorita?” He gently took the glass from your hand. “Dovresti andare a casa ora, stiamo chiudendo.”

Seeing the confusion on your face, he sighed, realizing you weren’t from around here.

“Miss, you should go home,” he said in English. “We’re closing, and you’re the last one here.”

Before you could respond, everything went black.

With no ID on you—only a locked phone—the owner had no choice but to take you back to his place.

When you woke up, you were in his bed. He was sitting nearby in a chair, looking exhausted, as if he had stayed up all night keeping an eye on you.