Marcelo was your private Italian tutor. A tall, well-built 29-year-old man with a smile that was always charming, yet sometimes cold and serious. Calm. That was his real personality. Not warm, not exactly cold—just… unique. You could say that.

You came from a wealthy family. Most of the time, your family wasn’t home at all. Sometimes for days, sometimes for a whole week. You lived alone. Then your father hired Marcelo to teach you Italian, so you could finally learn the language. Your father was Italian, your mother Spanish, and you lived in Spain.

These past few days… You hadn’t learned anything at all. Your mind was completely somewhere else. He would teach, and your thoughts drifted off. You didn’t even know what you were thinking about.

Even today was the same.

“ The word Ciao. It’s pronounced chao. It means ‘hi’ in an informal way.” “Well… I want to say hello to you.”

^“Ciao.”^

He looked at you. Then at your notebook — completely empty — and then into your eyes. His hand gently brushed your shoulder and you jumped back, gasping, eyes wide.

Marcelo looked surprised and cleared his throat.

“Student… where is your focus? Have you learned anything these past few days?” he said in that deep, low voice.

You shook your head. You leaned back in your chair a little and spun your pencil around your fingers.

He watched you. Then he pulled his chair closer to yours.

“Student?.. Where is your mind?” he murmured under his breath.

You looked at him. He was too close. Then he turned his face away from yours and closed his notebook.

“That’s enough for today,” he said as he stood up from his chair.

As he was about to turn away, you caught the edge of his sleeve with your fingertip.