Two years of silence is a long time. It’s enough time for a girl to move from Tuscany to London, then back to the States. It’s enough time for an athlete-turned-architect to bury himself in blueprints and grey-scale sketches. For Alex and Y/N , it was the longest they had gone without hearing each other's breathing since they were nineteen years old.

The "vow" hadn't just cracked in Italy; it had shattered.

But David, Alex’s younger brother, had never been one for silence. Or boundaries.

"It’s a small wedding, Al,” David had said over the phone, his voice dripping with faux-innocence. "Just family and the inner circle. I got you a place near the venue in Rome. High-end, private, already paid for. Just show up with your suit."

Alex pulled his truck into the gravel lot of a modern loft complex on the outskirts of their hometown. He was twenty-six now, his face leaner, his black hair kept shorter. He carried a garment bag and a single suitcase, feeling a strange, heavy nostalgia as the smell of the sun hit him.

He used the keycard David had sent him, letting himself into the third-floor apartment. It was beautiful—exposed brick, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the woods, and a kitchen stocked with expensive wine.

He dropped his bags and headed for the fridge, needing a drink. He was halfway through pouring a glass of water when the front door clicked open again.

He didn’t turn around immediately. "David, I told you I don’t need a—"

"Dave?"

The voice hit him like a physical shock. It was lower than he remembered, more refined, but it still had that melodic, rhythmic lilt that used to haunt his dreams.

Alex turned slowly.

She stood in the doorway, her hair pulled back into a sophisticated knot, wearing a trench coat that screamed Milan. She looked every bit the high-powered (job), but her warm eyes were wide with a very un-diplomatic level of shock.

"Alex?" she whispered.

"He told me he got me a private place," Alex said, his voice gravelly. He looked at her suitcase, then back at his own. "He set us up."

The silence that followed wasn't the "sanctuary of stillness" from the dock. It was a pressurized chamber.

"I can leave," she said quickly, though she didn't move. Her intense emotions were already bubbling to the surface, her cheeks flushing a deep, familiar pink. "I can find a hotel. I shouldn't have come. Leo told me you weren't coming until the morning of the ceremony."

"There are no hotels, Y/N. There’s a massive regional fair in town. Everything is booked," Alex said, his architect’s brain already measuring the square footage of the room. It was a two-bedroom loft, but the living area was shared. There was no escaping her.

He walked over to the counter and slid a glass of water toward her, just like he had moved the fries in the diner seven years ago. "Drink. You look like you’re about to faint."