Francesca shifted at his side, her face pale, exhaustion written into every movement. Lorenzo noticed instantly. His focus snapped to her as if nothing else existed.
“You’re not feeling well,” he murmured.
Then, to the driver, “Hold off for a bit. We’ll go up first.”
I stepped aside without comment as he guided her toward the elevator. For a brief moment, Lorenzo paused and looked at me, as though waiting for something—anger, hurt, a plea. I gave him nothing. After a second, he turned away and ushered Francesca inside.
As the doors slid shut, the reflective surface caught them together—her expression soft with gratitude, his posture instinctively shielding her. The image dragged up a memory I hadn’t thought of in years: Lorenzo carrying my suitcase into his penthouse, grinning as he joked that I might as well start calling it our home, that I was already halfway to being his wife.
Aunt Lyra released a slow breath. “Are you truly okay with this, Sofia?”
I gave her a small, contained smile.
“It doesn’t matter if I am,” I said. “If that’s where his loyalty rests, then I’ll accept it.”
Once the last box was delivered, I left before my composure cracked. I waited outside for the car, but Lorenzo and Francesca still hadn’t come down. Out of courtesy—for what we used to be—I sent him a short message.
Are you coming back?
The response came almost immediately, but not in text form. A voice message.
When I pressed play, Francesca’s voice filled the air, gentle and carefully sweet.
“Sofia, Lorenzo’s helping me fix some wiring problems here. The apartment’s been empty for a while, so there’s a lot to sort out. You should head off first—no need to wait.”
I stared at the screen for several seconds before closing it. The familiar ache surfaced in my chest, sharp and unwelcome, but I forced it down before it could grow teeth.
As I slid into the backseat, another message came through.
“I hope you don’t get the wrong idea,” she added softly. “Lorenzo’s just helping because he feels responsible. Being alone in a new city can be… overwhelming.”
The meaning was unmistakable. She leaned on him. And he never refused her.
My phone rang again almost immediately. Lorenzo’s name lit up the screen. I answered, and his irritation spilled out at once.