The nights were quieter now.
Elena noticed it first in the stillness. No more roses on her windowsill. No charm bracelets. No cups of hot chocolate left to steam in the cold. She kept looking—everywhere. Her eyes followed every figure in a hoodie, every passing shadow, but it was never him.
Luca Romano had vanished.
And far from her quiet world, in a city carved by blood and loyalty, Luca stood across from the house that raised him—if "raising" could be the word for what they did.
Romano estate was less a home, more a fortress. Stone walls wrapped around its secrets like a ribcage protecting a rotten heart. His father, Salvatore Romano, still ruled it like a tyrant in silk.
"I told you to forget her," the old man spat, voice low and dangerous. "She's a weakness. One they'll use."
Luca didn't flinch. His eyes were like concrete—cold and unreadable. "I'm not asking for your blessing."
"You think that makes you a man?" His father's laughter was sharp. "You're either with this family or you're nothing."
Luca clenched his jaw so tight it ached. He had left this life. The underground fights. The stolen money. The silence that followed screams. But the Romano blood didn't forget. And now that he'd let someone like Elena slip into his world, even from the edges, they would sniff her out like wolves.
So he disappeared.
From her.
From everything.
But staying away didn't mean letting go. No one would ever touch her—not while he could breathe.
Back in her tiny apartment, Elena stared at the envelope on her bed. A letter from the university. She had assumed it was another reminder of her overdue tuition. Instead, it said her balance had been cleared. Completely.
She sat down slowly, heart thudding. She hadn't told anyone about her struggle. Not even her roommate.
The only person who would've known… couldn't possibly have—
Could he?
"Luca…" she whispered into the quiet.
The name felt like a wound on her lips.
She held the letter tighter, the ache in her chest growing. Why did it feel more painful to be protected from a distance than it ever did to be watched up close?
At the Romano estate, Luca sat in his childhood room—bare except for a punching bag and a cracked mirror. His hoodie clung to him like armor, soaked from the rain he didn't bother escaping. On the floor beside him sat his phone, turned off.
He wanted to call her. Just once.
But he couldn't.
If they found her—really found her—she'd be a pawn. A threat. A consequence of his rebellion. And he'd rather die than let that happen.
That night, Elena cried for the first time since her parents abandoned her. Not because of fear. Not because of loneliness.
Because someone had finally chosen her—and then left.
Again.
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