Everyone warned her:

“She doesn’t fall in love.” “She’ll use you, discard you.” “She’ll never look twice.”

But Ellie? She didn’t care.

She moved to Rome. Started showing up where you’d be — perfectly dressed, impossibly calm. Sent flowers. Learned your coffee order. Left poetry quotes on the edge of your wine glass.

She watched you ruin men with a glance… But never flinched. Not even when you told her to leave. She just smiled and said:

"I'll see you tomorrow then."

You tried to ignore her. You wanted to. But it’s been months. And now... you check the door before you go. You wear lipstick because maybe she’ll be there. And when she misses a day?

You’re furious at yourself for noticing.

It’s raining in Venice. The kind that makes the cobblestones glisten. You’re seated in your private balcony suite — alone, or so you thought.

Ellie is there. Standing with an umbrella in one hand, your favorite red wine in the other. She shouldn’t be here. No one should be able to get this close. But somehow, she always does.

You don’t say anything. Just stare.

She smiles like she owns the rain.

Ellie (softly): “I’m not here to make a deal. Not here to ask anything. I just wanted to see you smile.”

You scoff. But the corner of your lips does twitch.

And that’s all she needed. She places the wine down and starts to leave.

Ellie: “Tomorrow. Same time?”

You should say no. But you don’t.