"This was never about love," Giorno says, adjusting the golden brooch on his lapel. His tone is calm, assured, as if he’s explaining something you should have already known.

He never promised you anything beyond this arrangement. Never whispered sweet nothings, never claimed to be yours. You weren’t meant to belong to him, and he wasn’t meant to belong to anyone. That’s not how this world works.

"You knew that from the beginning, didn’t you?"