105

Lia's POV

The room felt too small, too suffocating. I paced back and forth, the rhythm of my steps doing nothing to soothe the chaos in my mind. The ticking of the clock on my desk seemed louder than usual, its sharp ticks matching the pounding of my heart. Just as I was about to circle around for the hundredth time, the door creaked open, and Finn stepped inside, his presence filling the room with an air of quiet intensity.

"Lia?" His voice was gentle but probing. "What's wrong?"

I turned to face him, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "It's nothing."

Finn’s eyebrows shot up, and he folded his arms across his chest. He was always perceptive, too perceptive for his own good. His green eyes searched my face, looking for cracks in the façade I worked so hard to maintain.

“Really?” he said, a hint of disbelief lacing his words. “Because you’ve been pacing for the last hour like you’re trying to wear a path into the floor.”

I let out a breathless laugh. It was easier to deflect, to mask the discomfort swirling inside me. “It’s just nerves, I suppose.”

He leaned against the doorframe, his expression softening. “I still don’t get it, you know. Why do you suddenly want to marry me.” He hesitated as if measuring his next words. “But if it’s what you want, then it’s cool.”

I laughed again, the sound sharper than I intended. The tension between us was palpable, but there was also an absurdity to it that I couldn’t ignore. “And I don’t understand why your so-called cousin Bianca got so angry when she found out we were getting married.”

Finn flinched at the mention of Bianca, and I caught the subtle twitch in his jaw before he smoothed it out. He shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet my gaze. My smile widened, a predatory satisfaction creeping into my expression. He was nervous. Interesting.

“Are you going to tell me why she’s so upset?” I asked, tilting my head as if I were genuinely curious. “Because I’d love to know.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “It’s... complicated,” he muttered, the word barely audible. His fingers fidgeted at his sides, a rare crack in his usually composed demeanor.

“Complicated,” I repeated, savoring the weight of the word. “Well, that makes me even more interested. You know, I’d love to join you and Bianca next time you go to the library. I think it could be... enlightening.”

Finn’s eyes met mine for a fraction of a second, wide with surprise before he dropped them again. The room seemed to hold its breath, the air between us charged with silent tension. Without another word, he turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

I watched him go, a chuckle slipping from my lips as soon as I was alone. This was getting more intriguing by the second.


---

Luca's POV

The streetlights cast long, pale shadows as I stood by my car, the night air biting into my skin. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, watching as Jenny’s car pulled up a few feet away. She stepped out, her heels clicking against the asphalt with a sharp, resolute rhythm. Even in the dim light, I could see the determined set of her jaw and the way her eyes flashed as she walked toward me.

“Luca,” she said, stopping a few feet away. Her voice was firm, a demand masked as a greeting. “Why did you reject the wedding?”

I looked at her, the weight of the question pressing on my chest. How could I explain what I barely understood myself? “Because you didn’t get my consent first,” I said, my voice even. It was a partial truth, one I hoped would be enough to stop this conversation from spiraling out of control.

Her eyes narrowed, a spark of frustration flickering within them. “Well, now you know,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “So, the wedding must push through. There’s no reason to delay it.”

I shook my head slowly, the chill of the night seeping into my bones. “No, Jenny. It can’t happen.”

A silence fell between us, heavy and suffocating. She tilted her head, a faint sneer curling at the edge of her lips. “Do you have someone else in mind?” she asked, her voice laced with mock amusement, as though daring me to confirm her suspicions.

I hesitated, the question slicing through the layers of my resolve. The truth teetered on the edge of my tongue, dangerous and exposed. After a beat, I spoke, my voice low but clear. “Yes. And you know who it is, so stop pretending, Jenny.”

Her eyes widened, the mask of control slipping for just an instant before she composed herself again. She opened her mouth, ready to lash back, but I didn’t give her the chance. I turned and walked away, the echoes of her stunned silence trailing behind me.

The drive back to Benedicta’s house was a blur, the darkened streets folding into one another as I replayed the conversation with Jenny in my head. The tension in her voice, the flicker of recognition when I’d said those words—I could still feel it, like an aftershock. But now, more than anything, a singular, fierce determination thrummed through me.

I parked in front of Benedicta’s house and killed the engine, the silence heavy in the wake of the car’s soft hum. The porch light was on, casting a warm glow against the night. I stepped out, feeling the gravel crunch beneath my feet, and walked up the steps. Before I could knock, the door opened, revealing Benedicta, her sharp eyes reading my expression in an instant.

“How did it go?” she asked, her voice calm, yet holding an edge of worry.

I stepped inside, the familiar scent of lavender and old books enveloping me. I ran a hand through my hair, the weight of the evening pressing on my shoulders. “It’s done. Jenny knows the wedding isn’t happening.”

She arched an eyebrow, closing the door behind me. “And what did she say?”

“She tried to push for it, told me it had to go on, but I told her no.” My voice was firmer than I expected, and I took a deep breath. “Then she asked if there was someone else.”

Benedicta’s gaze softened, the faintest hint of a smile playing on her lips. “And what did you tell her?”

“I told her the truth. That there is someone else. Someone she knows.”

Her eyes searched mine for a moment, and then she nodded as if she had expected nothing less. “You did what you had to do, Luca. But now what?”

“I need to see Lia,” I said, the name falling from my lips with a mix of urgency and longing. “I can’t let her marry Finn. I won’t. I love her, Benedicta. And I’m going to fight for her.”

Benedicta’s smile grew, sad but proud. She reached out, placing a hand on my arm. “Then go to her. Don’t let fear or doubts hold you back. If you’re going to fight, fight with everything you have.”

I nodded, the tightness in my chest easing slightly at her words. But the road ahead was still uncertain, and I knew this battle would be more complicated than just confronting Lia. It was the weight of unspoken truths, tangled loyalties, and the delicate balance we’d all been trying to maintain for too long.

But none of that mattered now. What mattered was her, and the chance to tell her everything—to make her see that she wasn’t just someone I wanted; she was the only one.

Turning back toward the door, I took another deep breath, steeling myself. The night was far from over, but for the first time in what felt like ages, I knew exactly what I had to do.