Invisible string is a story about Angelys Diaz, a model disillusioned by her glamorous life, and Franco Colapinto, an F1 driver seeking something real. Their unexpected connection reveals the power of authenticity and the invisible ties that can pul...
"Love is not about where you are; it's about the effort you make to close the distance."
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Angelys stepped off the train in Monaco, the familiar glimmer of the Mediterranean city stretching before her like a postcard brought to life. She adjusted her sunglasses, her heart fluttering in a way it hadn't in a long time. The air smelled of sea salt and possibilities, and for once, she wasn't here for a photo shoot or a glamorous event. She was here for him.
Franco had insisted she stay with him, even though she'd offered to book a hotel. "I'd rather have you close," he'd said over the phone, his voice warm, making her stomach flip.
She found him waiting just past the station gates, leaning casually against his car. His dark hair caught the sunlight, and when he saw her, his face broke into a grin so genuine it nearly stopped her in her tracks.
"There you are," he said as she approached, pulling her into a warm hug.
"I'm here," she replied, letting herself relax in his arms. "And you're late, by the way."
Franco chuckled. "Only by three minutes. Cut me some slack—I was trying to pick the right playlist for the drive."
Angelys rolled her eyes playfully as he opened the passenger door for her. "You're lucky I like your taste in music."
As they drove through the winding streets of Monaco, Angelys couldn't help but marvel at how comfortable this felt. Franco wasn't rushing to show her the flashiest spots or the most exclusive venues. Instead, he talked about his favorite coffee shop, the quiet trail overlooking the harbor, and the small bookstore tucked away on a side street. It wasn't the Monaco she knew from her world of glitz and glamour—it was his Monaco, and she liked it more.
Later, they sat by the water, a small picnic between them. The setting sun painted the waves gold, and Franco's laugh filled the air as she recounted a chaotic story from her last photo shoot.
"You're not serious," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "The model really brought a peacock to the set?"
"Oh, I'm dead serious," she replied, grinning. "It strutted around like it owned the place, and honestly? It kind of did."
Franco shook his head, still chuckling. "Your life is ridiculous, you know that?"
"And yours isn't?" she countered. "You literally drive a car at 300 kilometers per hour for a living."
"Touché."
——-
A few weeks later, it was Franco's turn to cross the distance.
The streets of São Paulo were alive with music and energy, and Franco found himself falling in love with the city as Angelys guided him through its vibrant neighborhoods. She took him to her favorite local spots, introducing him to food that made his eyes widen with surprise and delight.
"This," Franco said, gesturing to the pastel he was eating, "might be the best thing I've ever tasted."
Angelys laughed, watching as he took another enthusiastic bite. "You say that about everything you eat here."
"Because it's all true," he insisted.
Later that night, they found themselves on the rooftop of her hotel, the city lights twinkling below them. Franco leaned against the railing, his hand resting lightly on hers.
"Thank you for bringing me here," he said quietly. "I feel like I'm seeing a part of you I've never seen before."
Angelys smiled, her eyes soft. "It's not just my city—it's my heart. And I wanted you to know it."
————-
The cool night breeze swept over the rooftop as Angelys leaned against the railing, her hand still entwined with Franco's. She traced the lights of São Paulo with her eyes, feeling a rare sense of calm she hadn't experienced in years.
Franco broke the silence, his voice low and thoughtful. "Angelys, I've been thinking about something... and I want to ask you."
She turned to him, her hazel eyes meeting his. "What is it?"
He hesitated for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, then said, "Move to Monaco with me."
Her breath caught, and she blinked at him in surprise. "Monaco?"
Franco nodded, his gaze steady and sincere. "I know it's a lot to ask. Your life is in Paris, your work, your friends. But every time I'm there without you, it feels... empty. I don't want to keep saying goodbye after every weekend or counting down the days until I see you again."
Angelys's heart raced as his words sank in.
"It's not just a place for me," he continued, his tone earnest. "It's home. And I want you to be part of it. I want to wake up next to you, not just when our schedules align, but every day. I want us to have that, Angelys. Something real, something lasting."
Her lips parted, but no words came out at first. She wasn't sure what to say. Monaco had always been a symbol of glitz and luxury, a world she associated with superficiality and fleeting moments. But now, looking at Franco, it felt different. He wasn't offering her a life of extravagance—he was offering her a life with him.
"Franco..." she finally managed, her voice soft. "That's a big step."
"I know," he admitted, stepping closer and taking both her hands in his. "But I've never been more sure of anything. I don't want us to just keep meeting in the middle. I want us to build something together, from the same place."
She searched his face, finding nothing but sincerity in his dark eyes. The idea of leaving Paris, her work, her independence—it was daunting. But the thought of building a life with Franco, of finally having someone who truly saw her, was something she couldn't ignore.
After a moment, she smiled softly. "Okay."
"Okay?" His voice was hopeful, but still cautious.
