𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗟𝗬 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗦 ✔️ (𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀)

➼ Chap. 01 ⭑

He started coming around more often. Fixing things around the house. Eating dinner with us. Picking me up from school when dad was stuck at the office. And even though he never tried to take my mom's place—never acted like a parent—he showed up in quiet, meaningful ways that started to matter to me more than I'd ever admit out loud.

He never played dress-up with me or attended my tea parties. That wasn't his style. But he did sneak me candy when dad wasn't looking, helped me with my math homework even though he hated it, and let me ramble about books or art or whatever silly thing was on my mind at the time.

He slowly became part of my world—like sunlight seeping in through a curtain. I didn't notice it at first, but once I did, I realized how much warmer life had become with him in it.

I used to think of him as a sort of quiet guardian—always watching, always protecting. Someone steady to lean on. But everything changed that one memorable summer day...

I was fourteen. My dad had promised to take me biking that weekend, but he got called into work last minute. I was so disappointed I nearly canceled the whole thing, but Luciano offered to go with me instead. Said it'd be a shame to let such a perfect day go to waste—and honestly, I was secretly a little excited it'd be just the two of us.

So we went biking, just us. The weather was perfect—bright skies, warm breeze, the kind of day that made you feel weightless. I was laughing at something he'd said when my tire hit a bump. One second I was cruising, the next I was on the ground with a scraped knee and a throbbing ankle that made it impossible to walk, let alone bike back home.

Luciano didn't hesitate. He crouched in front of me and told me to hop on his back, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then, just our luck, it started raining. Not a light drizzle, but full-on pouring.

We ducked into a gas station to wait it out, and I was shivering in my damp clothes. Without a word, he peeled off his hoodie and pulled it over my head. It was huge on me, swallowing me whole, but it was warm and smelled like him—faintly like cedarwood and something clean and masculine I couldn't name.

He bought us snacks from the store and tried to cheer me up by playing our favorite songs on his phone, singing along in the silliest voice that made me laugh even though my leg throbbed and the storm outside scared the hell out of me.

When that wasn't enough, he started a ridiculous game of "I Spy" with random items on the shelves, making up hilarious backstories for each one like he was narrating a cartoon episode just for me.

It should've been just another moment where he took care of me. He'd done it a million times before. But that day? It felt different. It felt like he gave me a little piece of himself without even realizing it.

Maybe it was the way he held eye contact longer than usual, or how gentle he was when he helped me limp to the car. Whatever it was, something inside me shifted.

After that day, I started seeing him... differently.

I got butterflies just from hearing his voice in the hallway. I'd blush when he looked at me, flustered when he got too close. I started putting more effort into how I looked, testing out makeup, styling my hair in new ways—always hoping he'd notice.

I didn't want to analyze what I was feeling. I just wanted to enjoy the rush, the thrill, the giddy anticipation that came with being near him.

But one day, he walked through our front door with a woman.

His girlfriend.

I remember the way my stomach dropped like I'd been punched in the gut. She was pretty, confident, dressed like she belonged on the arm of a man like him. And he looked happy... too happy. I sat through dinner barely able to speak, my hands clenched under the table while I watched him smile at her the way I'd been hoping he'd smile at me.