𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄|| 18+ ✔️

21

A Z Z U R R A

The bell echoed through the quiet halls of our home, signaling an unexpected visitor. As I approached the door, curiosity mingled with a tinge of apprehension. Upon swinging the door open, Carmen stood there, an innocuous box in her hands.

Calm down, Azzurra. Breathe.

"I had a few of Lorenzo's stuff," Carmen explained, her words a feigned nonchalance that didn't escape my notice. "Thought I'd bring it back."

Carmen. That name sent a chill down my spine.

Lorenzo emerged from the shadows, his eyes widening as he inspected the contents of the box. "You kept it?" he queried, his tone laced with surprise and perhaps a hint of nostalgia.

Why would she keep his things? What is there to reminisce about?

As he retrieved an item from the box, my mind raced, and an unsettling voice whispered in the recesses of my thoughts. She's trying to rekindle something. That box holds fragments of their past, a past he shared with her. What if he still cares?

Attempting to stifle the rising unease, I retreated to the kitchen, watching them interact from a distance. The tension in the air became palpable, like a storm brewing on the horizon.

He kept it. Of course, he did. Why wouldn't he?

A jumble of emotions tugged at my insides, jealousy being the unruly front-runner. I resisted the urge to grab the nearest chair and throw it in their direction. Instead, I clutched the edge of the counter, grounding myself in the cool surface as if it could anchor my turbulent thoughts.

You're overthinking, Azzurra. Trust him.

Yet, trust proved elusive, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. Carmen's presence felt like an unwelcome intrusion, a reminder of a past that, in my mind, should remain buried.

Why does he need to keep anything from her? What's the purpose?

The sound of their conversation reached my ears like distant echoes, indecipherable murmurs that fueled the inferno of my imagination. Each exchange, each shared glance, became a nail on the proverbial coffin of my composure.

She's enjoying this. The attention. The past.

As the box exchanged hands, my hands tightened around the counter's edge. The feeling of being an outsider in my own home intensified, and a relentless voice in my head questioned whether I belonged here at all.

Lorenzo, do you still harbor something for her?

An internal battle waged within me – a clash of trust and doubt, love and insecurity. In that moment, the box became a symbol of an unwelcome intruder, threatening the fragile equilibrium we'd built.

I should confront him. Ask him about it.

The decision lingered in the air, a contemplation of whether to let the storm pass or confront the tempest head-on. The kitchen, once a haven, now harbored the echoes of uncertainty, leaving me standing at the crossroads of trust and turmoil.

"Is everything okay?" Lorenzo's voice cut through the swirling thoughts, and for a moment, I hesitated.

No, things are not okay. Carmen's presence is stirring up a storm.