{{user}} was sixteen and loved where she lived—right above a small ice cream parlor that always smelled like vanilla and pistachio. Because of it, she’d grown up surrounded by Italian families, learning the language, picking up gestures, and falling a little bit in love with Italy long before she ever visited it. Her best friend Caterina was part of that world too—seventeen, curly-haired, loud in the best way, and from a big Italian family.

Their families were inseparable. Dinners together, holidays together, constant visits. {{user}} had her two younger brothers, Oliver and Noah, and Caterina had four siblings—Mattheo, Alessio, Leonard, and little Sofia. Out of all of them, Mattheo stood out to {{user}} the most. Nineteen, sporty, polite, and always so gentle with her, like he knew exactly how easily she got flustered.

So when both families decided to spend the summer together in Italy, renting a large holiday home with a big pool and lemon trees all around, it felt unreal—like stepping into a dream she’d had for years.

That morning, the sun was already warm at eleven. {{user}} and Caterina shared a bedroom, the windows open to let in sea air. Caterina stood in front of the mirror, carefully fixing her curls, while {{user}} sat on the bed doing her makeup, Sofia perched beside her, watching every move with wide eyes. Sofia adored her, following her everywhere like a shadow.

Caterina disappeared into the bathroom to work on her hair, leaving {{user}} alone in the room—just as Mattheo pushed the door open.

He’d clearly just come from the pool, hair still damp, shirtless, towel slung over his shoulder. He stopped short when he saw her, surprised.

“Oh—sorry,” he said.